O 


2246*1 


K    DEAD    ALIVK. — [sEK    V.  100.] 


THE  NEW  MAGDALEN 


H  -Novel 


WILKIE    COLLINS 

AUTHOR  OP 

'POOR  MISS  FINCH"  "MAN  AND  WIFE"  "THK  WOMAN  IN  WHITK" 
"ARMADALK"  "NO  NAME"  KTC.,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 
1893 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873.  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
Ii:  the  Office  of  the  Librariar  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


SRLf- 
.URL 

toe; 


2224681 


TO 


THE  MEMORY  OF 


CHARLES   ALLSTON    COLLINS. 


gtk  Afril,  1873. 


THE  NEW  MAGDALEN. 


FIRST   SCENE. 
(Jlje  Cottage  on  the  .frontier. 

PREAMBLE. 

THE  place  is  France. 

The  time  is  autumn,  in  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  sev- 
enty— the  year  of  the  war  between  France  and  Germany. 

The  persons  are,  Captain  Arnault,  of  the  French  army ;  Sur- 
geon Surville,  of  the  French  ambulance ;  Surgeon  Wetzel,  of 
the  German  army ;  Mercy  Merrick,  attached  as  nurse  to  the 
French  ambulance ;  and  Grace  Roseberry,  a  traveling  lady  oil 
her  way  to  England. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE   TWO    WOMEN. 

IT  was  a  dark  night.     The  rain  was  pouring  in  torrents. 

Late  in  the  evening  a  skirmishing  party  of  the  French  and 
a  skirmishing  party  of  the  Germans  had  met,  by  accident, 
near  the  little  village  of  Lagrange,  close  to  the  Gorman 
frontier.  In  the  struggle  that  followed,  the  French  had  (for 
once)  got  the  better  of  the  enemy.  For  the  time,  at  least,  a 
few  hundreds  out  of  the  host  of  the  invaders  had  been  forced 
back  over  the  frontier.  It  was  a  trifling  affair,  occurring  not 

1* 


10  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

long  after  the  great  German  victory  of  Weissenbourg,  and 
the  newspapers  took  little  or  no  notice  of  it. 

Captain  Arnault,  commanding  on  the  French  side,  sat  alone 
in  one  of  the  cottages  of  the  village,  inhabited  by  the.  miller 
of  the  district.  The  Captain  was  reading,  by  the  light  of  a 
solitary  tallow-candle,  some  intercepted  dispatches  taken  from 
the  Germans.  He  had  suffered  the  wood  fire,  scattered  over 
the  large  open  grate, to  burn  low;  the  red  embers  only  faint- 
ly illuminated  a  part  of  the  room.  On  the  floor  behind  him 
lay  some  of  the  miller's  empty  sacks.  In  a  corner  opposite 
to  him  was  the  miller's  solid  walnut-wood  bed.  On  the  walls 
all  around  him  were  the  miller's  colored  prints,  representing 
a  happy  mixture  of  devotional  and  domestic  subjects.  A 
door  of  communication  leading  into  the  kitchen  of  the  cot- 
tage had  been  torn  from  its  hinges,  and  used  to  carry  the 
men  wounded  in  the  skirmish  from  the  field.  They  were 
now  comfortably  laid  at  rest  in  the  kitchen,  under  the  care  of 
the  French  surgeon  and  the  English  nurse  attached  to  the 
ambulance.  A  piece  of  coarse  canvas  screened  the  opening 
between  the  two  roo.ms  in  place  of  the  door.  A  second 
door,  leading  from  the  bed-chamber  into  the  yard,  was 
locked;  and  the  wooden  shutter  protecting  the  one  window 
of  the  room  was  carefully  barred.  Sentinels,  doubled  in 
number,  were  placed  at  all  the  outposts.  The  French  com- 
mander had  neglected  no  precaution  which  could  reasonably 
insure  for  himself  and  for  his  men  a  quiet  and  comfortable 
night. 

Still  absorbed  in  his  perusal  of  the  dispatches,  and  now  and 
then  making  notes  of  what  he  read  by  the  help  of  writing 
materials  placed  at  his  side,  Captain  Arnault  was  interrupted 
by  the  appearance  of  an  intruder  in  the  room.  Surgeon  Sur- 
ville,  entering  from  the  kitchen,  drew  aside  the  canvas  screen, 
and  approached  the  little  round  table  at  which  his  superior 
officer  was  sitting. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  the  captain,  sharply. 


THE    NEW    MA(,1>AI.I,V  11 

"  A  question  to  ask,"  replied  the  surgeon.  "  Are  we  safe 
for  the  night?" 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  ?"  inquired  the  captain,  sus- 
piciously. 

The  surgeon  pointed  to  the  kitchen,  now  the  hospital  de- 
voted to  the  wounded  men. 

"  The  poor  fellows  are  anxious  about  the  next  few  hours," 
he  replied.  "  They  dread  a  surprise,  and  they  ask  me  if 
there  is  airy  reasonable  hope  of  their  having  one  night's  rest. 
What  do  you  think  of  the  chances  ?" 

The  captain  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  surgeon  persist- 
ed. Surely  you  ought  to  know  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  know  that  we  are  in  possession  of  the  village  for  the 
present,"  retorted  Captain  Arnault,  "  and  I  know  no  more. 
Here  are  the  papers  of  the  enemy."  He  held  them  up,  and 
shook  them  impatiently  as  he  spoke.  "They  give  me  no 
information  that  I  can  rely  on.  For  all  I  can  tell  to  the  con- 
trary, the  main  body  of  the  Germans,  outnumbering  us  ten 
to  one,  may  be  nearer  this  cottage  than  the  main  body  of  the 
French.  Draw  your  own  conclusions.  I  have  nothing  more 
to  say." 

Having  answered  in  those  discouraging  terms,  Captain  Ar- 
nault got  on  his  feet,  drew  the  hood  of  his  great-coat  over  his 
head,  and  lit  a  cigar  at  the  candle. 

"  Where  are.you  going  ?"  asked  the  surgeon. 

"  To  visit  the  outposts." 

"  Do  you  want  this  room  for  a  little  while  ?" 

"  Not  for  some  hours  to  come.  Are  you  thinking  of  mov- 
ing any  of  your  wounded  men  in  here  ?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  the  English  lady,"  answered  the  sur- 
geon. "  The  kitchen  is  not  quite  the  place  for  her.  She 
would  be  more  comfortable  here ;  and  the  English  nurse 
might  keep  her  company." 

Captain  Arnault  smiled,  not  very  pleasantly.  "They  are 
two  fine  women,"  lie  said,  '"and  Surgeon  Surville  is  a  ladies' 


12  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

man.  Let  them  come  in,  if  they  are  rash  enough  to  trust 
themselves  here  with  you."  He  checked  himself  on  the  point 
of  going  out,  and  looked  back  distrustfully  at  the  lighted 
candle.  "  Caution  the  women,"  he  said,  "  to  limit  the  exer- 
cise of  their  curiosity  to  the  inside  of  this  room." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

The  captain's  forefinger  pointed  significantly  to  the  closed 
window-shutter. 

"  Did  you  ever  know  a  woman  who  could  resist  looking 
out  of  window  ?"  he  asked.  "  Dark  as  it  is,  sooner  or  later 
these  ladies  of  yours  will  feel  tempted  to  open  that  shutter. 
Tell  them  I  don't  want  the  light  of  the  candle  to  betray  my 
head-quarters  to  the  German  scouts.  How  is  the  weather  ? 
Still  raining  ?" 

"  Pouring." 

"  So  much  the  better.  The  Germans  won't  see  us."  With 
that  consolatory  remark  he  unlocked  the  door  leading  into 
the  yard,  and  walked  out. 

The  surgeon  lifted  the  canvas  screen  and  called  into  the 
kitchen  : 

"  Miss  Merrick,  have  you  time  to  take  a  little  rest  ?" 

"  Plenty  of  time,"  answered  a  soft  voice  with  an  underly- 
ing melancholy  in  it,  plainly  distinguishable  though  it  had 
only  spoken  three  words. 

"  Come  in,  then,"  continued  the  surgeon,  "  and  bring  the 
English  lady  with  you.  Here  is  a  quiet  room  all  to  your- 
selves." 

He  held  back  the  canvas,  and  the  two  women  appeared. 

The  nurse  led  the  way — tall,  lithe,  and  graceful — attired  in 
her  uniform  dress  of  neat  black  stuff,  with  plain  linen  collar 
and  cuffs,  and  with  the  scarlet  cross  of  the  Geneva  Conven- 
tion embroidered  on  her  left  shoulder.  Pale  and  sad,  her 
expression  and  manner  both  eloquently  suggestive  of  sup- 
pressed suffering  and  sorrow,  there  was  an  innate  nobility 
in  the  carriage  of  this  woman's  head,  an  innate  grandeur  in 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  13 

the  gaze  of  her  large  gray  eyes  and  in  the  lines  of  her  fine- 
ly proportioned  face,  which  made  her  irresistibly  striking  and 
beautiful,  seen  under  any  circumstances  and  clad  in  any  dress. 
Her  companion,  darker  in  complexion  and  smaller  in  stature, 
possessed  attractions  which  were  quite  marked  enough  to  ac- 
count for  the  surgeon's  polite  anxiety  to  shelter  her  in  the 
captain's  room.  The  common  consent  of  mankind  would 
have  declared  her  to  be  an  unusually  pretty  woman.  She 
wore  the  large  gray  cloak  that  covered  her  from  head  to  foot 
with  a  grace  that  lent  its  own  attractions  to  a  plain  and  even 
a  shabby  article  of  dress.  The  languor  in  her  movements, 
and  the  uncertainty  of  tone  in  her  voice  as  she  thanked  the 
surgeon,  suggested  that  she  was  suffering  from  fatigue.  Her 
dark  eyes  searched  the  dimly-lighted  room  timidly,  and  she 
held  fast  by  the  nurse's  arm  with  the  air  of  a  woman  whose 
nerves  had  been  severely  shaken  by  some  recent  alarm. 

"  You  have  one  thing  to  remember,  ladies,"  said  the  sur- 
geon. "  Beware  of  opening  the  shutter,  for  fear  of  the  light 
being  seen  through  the  window.  For  the  rest,  we  are  free 
to  make  ourselves  as  comfortable  here  as  we  can.  Compose 
yourself,  dear  madam,  and  rely  on  the  protection  of  a  French- 
man who  is  devoted  to  you  !"  He  gallantly  emphasized  his 
last  words  by  raising  the  hand  of  the  English  lady  to  his  lips. 
At  the  moment  when  he  kissed  it  the  canvas  screen  was  again 
drawn  aside.  A  person  in  the  service  of  the  ambulance  ap- 
peared, announcing  that  a  bandage  had  slipped,  and  that  one 
of  the  wounded  men  was  to  all  appearance  bleeding  to  death. 
The  surgeon,  submitting  to  destiny  with  the  worst  possible 
grace,  dropped  the  charming  Englishwoman's  hand,  and  re- 
turned to  his  duties  in  the  kitchen.  The  two  ladies  were  left 
together  in  the  room. 

"  Will  you  take  a  chair,  madam  ?"  asked  the  nurse. 

"  Don't  call  me  '  madam,' "  returned  the  young  lady,  cor- 
dially. "  My  name  is  Grace  Roseberry.  What  is  your 
name?" 


14  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

The  nurse  hesitated.  "  Not  a  pretty  name  like  yours," 
she  said,  and  hesitated  again.  "  Call  me  '  Mercy  Merrick,'  " 
she  added,  after  a  moment's  consideration. 

Had  she  given  an  assumed  name  ?  Was  there  some  un- 
happy celebrity  attached  to  her  own  name  ?  Miss  Roseberry 
did  not  wait  to  ask  herself  these  questions.  "  Plow  can  I 
thank  you,"  she  exclaimed,  gratefully,  "  for  your  sisterly  kind- 
ness to  a  stranger  like  me  ?" 

"  I  have  only  done  my  duty,"  said  Mercy  Merrick,  a  little 
coldly.  "  Don't  speak  of  it." 

"  I  must  speak  of  it.  What  a  situation  you  found  me  in 
when  the  French  soldiers  had  driven  the  Germans  away ! 
My  traveling-carriage  stopped  ;  the  horses  seized  ;  I  myself 
in  a  strange  country  at  night-fall,  robbed  of  my  money  and 
my  luggage,  and  drenched  to  the  skin  by  the  pouring  rain  ! 
I  am  indebted  to  you  for  shelter  in  this  place — I  am  wearing 
your  clothes — I  should  have  died  of  the  fright  and  the  ex- 
posure but  for  you.  What  return  can  I  make  for  such  serv- 
ices as  these  ?" 

Mercy  placed  a  chair  for  her  guest  near  the  captain's  table, 
and  seated  herself,  at  some  little  distance,  on  an  old  chest  in  a 
corner  of  the  room.  "  May  I  ask  you  a  question  ?"  she  said, 
abruptly. 

"A  hundred  questions,"  cried  Grace,  "if  you  like."  She 
looked  at  the  expiring  fire,  and  at  the  dimly  visible  figure  of 
her"  co'mpanion  seated  in  the  obscurest  corner  of  the  ^room. 
"That  wretched  candle  hardly  gives  any  light,"  she  said,  im- 
patiently. "It  won't  last  much  longer.  Can't  we  make  the 
place  more  cheerful  ?  Come  out  -of  your  corner.  Call  for 
more  wood  and  more  lights." 

Mercy  remained  in  her  corner  and  shook  her  head.  "  Can- 
dles and  wood  are  scarce  things  here,"  she  answered.  "  We 
must  be  patient,  even  if  we  are  left  in  the  dark.  Tell  me," 
she  went  on,  raising  her  quiet  voice  a  little,  "  how  came  you 
to  risk  crossing  the  frontier  in  war-time?" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  15 

Grace's  voice  dropped  when  she  answered  the  question. 
Grace's  momentary  gayety  of  manner  suddenly  left  her. 

"  I  had  urgent  reasons,"  she  said,  "  for  returning  to  En- 
gland." 

"Alone?"  rejoined  the  other.  "Without  any  one  to  pro- 
tect you  ?" 

Grace's  head  sank  on  her  bosom.  "I  have  left  my  only 
protector  —  my  father  —  in  the  English  burial  -  ground  at 
Rome,"  she  answered,  simply.  "My  mother  died,  years 
since,  in  Canada." 

The  shadowy  figure  of  the  nurse  suddenly  changed  its  po- 
sition on  the  chest.  She  had  started  as  the  last  word  passed 
Miss  Roseberry's  lips. 

"  Do  you  know  Canada  ?"  asked  Grace. 

"  Well,"  was  the  brief  answer — reluctantly  given,  short  as 
it  was. 

"  Were  you  ever  near  Port  Logan  ?" 

"  I  once  lived  within  a  few  miles  of  Port  Logan." 

"  When  ?" 

"  Some  time  since."  With  those  words  Mercy  Merrick 
shrank  back  into  her  corner  and  changed  the  subject.  "  Your 
relatives  in  England  must  be  very  anxious  about  you,"  she  said. 

Grace  sighed.  "  I  have  no  relatives  in  England.  You  can 
hardly  imagine  a  person  more  friendless  than  I  am.  We 
went  away  from  Canada,  when  my  father's  health  failed,  to 
try  the  climate  of  Italy,  by  the  doctor's  advice.  His  death 
has  left  me  not  only  friendless  but  poor."  She  paused,  and 
took  a  leather  letter-case  from  the  pocket  of  the  large  gray 
cloak  which  the  nurse  had  lent  to  her.  "My  prospects  in 
life,"  she  resumed,  "  are  all  contained  in  this  little  case. 
Here  is  the  one  treasure  I  contrived  to  conceal  when  I  was 
robbed  of  my  other  things." 

Mercy  could  just  see  the  letter-case  as  Grace  held  it  up  in 
the  deepening  obscurity  of  the  room.  "  Have  you  got  money 
in  it  ?"  she  asked. 


16  THE    NEW    MA<JDALEN. 

"  No ;  only  a  few  family  papers,  and  a  letter  from  my  fa- 
ther, introducing  me  to  an  elderly  lady  in  England — a  con- 
nection of  his  by  marriage,  whom  I  have  never  seen.  The 
lady  has  consented  to  receive  me  as  her  companion  and  read 
er.  If  I  don't  return  to  England  soon,  some  other  person 
may  get  the  place." 

"  Have  you  no  other  resource  ?" 

"  None.  My  education  has  been  neglected — we  led  a  wild 
life  in  the  far  West.  I  am  quite  unfit  to  go  out  as  a  govern- 
ess. I  am  absolutely  dependent  on  this  stranger,  who  re- 
ceives me  for  my  father's  sake."  She  put  the  letter-case  back 
in  the  pocket  of  her  cloak,  and  ended  her  little  narrative  as 
unaffectedly  as  she  had  begun  it.  "  Mine  is  a  sad  story,  is  it 
not?"  she  said. 

The  voice  of  the  nurse  answered  her  suddenly  and  bitterly 
in  these  strange  words  : 

"There  are  sadder  stories  than  yours.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  miserable  women  who  would  ask  for  no  greater  bless- 
ing than  to  change  places  with  you." 

Grace  started.  "What  can  there  possibly  be  to  envy  in 
such  a  lot  as  mine?" 

"Your  unblemished  character,  and  your  prospect  of  being 
established  honorably  in  a  respectable  house." 

Grace  turned  in  her  chair,  and  looked  wonderingly  into  the 
dim  corner  of  the  room. 

"  How  strangely  you  say  that !"  she  exclaimed.  There 
was  no  answer ;  the  shadowy  figure  on  the  chest  never 
moved.  Grace  rose  impulsively,  and  drawing  her  chair  after 
her,  approached  the  nurse.  "Is  there  some  romance  in  your 
life?"  she  asked.  "Why  have  you  sacrificed  yourself  to  the 
terrible  duties  which  I  find  you  performing  here  ?  You  in 
terest  me  indescribably.  Give  me  your  hand." 

Mercy  shrank  back,  and  refused  the  offered  hand. 

"Are  we  not  friends  ?"  Grace  asked,  in  astonishment. 

"  We  can  never  be  friends." 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  17 

"Why  not?" 

The  nurse  was  dumb.  Grace  called  to  mind  the  hesita- 
tion that  she  had  ehown  when  she  had  mentioned  her  name, 
and  drew  a  new  conclusion  from  it.  "  Should  I  be  guessing 
right,"  she  asked,  eagerly, "  if  I  guessed  you  to  be  some  great 
lady  in  disguise  ?" 

Mercy  laughed  to  herself — low  and  bitterly.  "la  great 
lady  !"  she  said,  contemptuously.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  let  us 
talk  of  something  else  !" 

Grace's  curiosity  was  thoroughly  roused.  She  persisted. 
"  Once  more,"  she  whispered,  persuasively,  "  let  us  be 
friends."  She  gently  laid  her  hand  as  she  spoke  on  Mercy's 
shoulder.  Mercy  roughly  shook  it  off.  There  was  a  rude- 
ness in  the  action  which  would  have  offended  the  most  pa- 
tient woman  living.  Grace  drew  back  indignantly.  "Ah!" 
she  cried,  "  you  are  cruel." 

"I  am  kind,"  answered  the  nurse,  speaking  more  sternly 
than  ever. 

"  Is  it  kind  to  keep  me  at  a  distance  ?  I  have  told  you  my 
story.* 

The  nurse's  voice  rose  excitedly.  "  Don't  tempt  me  to 
speak  out,"  she  said ;  "  you  will  regret  it." 

Grace  declined  to  accept  the  warning.  "I  have  placed 
confidence  in  you,"  she  went  on.  "It  is  ungenerous  to  lay 
me  under  an  obligation,  and  then  to  shut  me  out  of  your 
confidence  in  return." 

"You  will  have  it?"  said  Mercy  Merrick.  "You  shall 
have  it !  Sit  down  again."  Grace's  heart  began  to  quicken 
its  beat  in  expectation  of  the  disclosure  that  was  to  come. 
She  drew  her  chair  closer  to  the  chest  on  which  the  nurse 
was  sitting.  With  a  firm  hand  Mercy  put  the  chair  back  to 
a  distance  from  her.  "  Not  so  near  me !"  she  said,  harshly. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Not  so  near,"  repeated  the  sternly  resolute  voice.  "  Wait 
till  you  have  heard  what  I  have  to  say." 


18  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Grace  obeyed  without  a  word  more.  There  was  a  moment- 
ary silence.  A  faint  flash  of  light  leaped  up  from  the  expir- 
ing candle,  and  showed  Mercy  crouching  on  the  chest,  with 
her  elbows  on  her  knees,  and  her  face  hidden  in  her  hands. 
The  next  instant  the  room  was  buried  in  obscurity.  As  the 
darkness  fell  on  the  two  women  the  nurse  spoke. 


CHAPTER  II. 

MAGDALEN — IN   MODERN   TIMES. 

"WHEN  your  mother  was  alive  were  you  ever  out  with 
tier  after  night-fall  in  the  streets  of  a  great  city  ?" 

In  those  extraordinary  terms  Mercy  Merrick  opened  the 
confidential  interview  which  Grace  Roseberry  had  forced  on 
her.  Grace  answered,  simply,  "  I  don't  understand  you." 

"I  will  put  it  in  another  way,"  said  the  nurse.  Its  un- 
natural hardness  and  sternness  of  tone  passed  away  from  her 
voice,  and  its  native  gentleness  and  sadness  returned,  as  she 
made  that  reply.  "  You  read  the  newspapers  like  the  rest  of 
the  world,"  she  went  on;  "have  you  ever  read  of  your  un- 
happy fellow-creatures  (the  starving  outcasts  of  the  popula- 
tion)  whom  Want  has  driven  into  Sin  ?" 

Still  wondering,  Grace  answered  that  she  had  read  of  such 
things  often,  in  newspapers  and  in  books. 

"  Have  you  heard — when  those  starving  and  sinning  fellow- 
creatures  happened  to  be  women — of  Refuges  established  to 
protect  and  reclaim  them  ?" 

The  wonder  in  Grace's  mind  passed  away,  and  a  vague 
suspicion  of  something  painful  to  come  took  its  place.  "  These 
are  extraordinary  questions,"  she  said,  nervously.  "What 
do  you  mean  ?" 

"Answer  me,"  the  nurse  insisted.  "Have  you  heard  of 
the  Refuges  ?  Have  you  heard  of  the  Women  ?" 

"Yes." 


THE   NEW    MAGDALEN.  19 

"Move  your  chair  a  little  farther  away  from  me."  She 
paused.  Her  voice,  without  losing  its  steadiness,  fell  to  its 
lowest  tones.  "I  was  once  of  those  women,"  she  said, 
quietly. 

Grace  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  faint  cry.  She  stood  petri- 
fied— incapable  of  uttering  a  word. 

"I  have  been  in  a  Refuge,"  pursued  the  sweet,  sad  voice 
of  the  other  woman.  "I  have  been  in  a  Prison.  Do  you 
still  wish  to  be  my  friend?  Do  you  still  insist  on  sitting 
close  by  me  and  taking  my  hand  ?"  She  waited  for  a  reply, 
and  no  reply  came.  "  You  sen  you  were  wrong,"  she  went 
on,  gently,  "  when  you  called  me  cruel — and  I  was  right 
when  I  told  you  I  was  kind." 

At  that  appeal  Grace  composed  herself,  and  spoke.  "I 
don't  wish  to  offend  you — "  she  began,  confusedly. 

Mercy  Merrick  stopped  her  there. 

"  You  don't  offend  me,"  she  said,  without  the  faintest  note 
of  displeasure  in  her  tone.  "  I  am  accustomed  to  stand  in 
the  pillory  of  my  own  past  life.  I  sometimes  ask  myself  if  it 
was  all  my  fault.  I  sometimes  wonder  if  Society  had  no  du- 
ties toward  me  when  I  was  a  child  selling  matches  in  the 
street — when  I  was  a  hard-working  girl  fainting  at  my  needle 
for  want  of  food."  Her  voice  faltered  a  little  for  the  first 
time  as  it  pronounced  those  words;  she  waited  a  moment, 
and  recovered  herself.  "  It's  too  late  to  dwell  on  these  things 
now,"  she  said,  resignedly.  "  Society  can  subscribe  to  re- 
claim me ;  but  Society  can't  take  me  back.  You  see  me 
here  in  a  place  of  trust — patiently,  humbly,  doing  all  the  good 
I  can.  It  doesn't  matter !  Here,  or  elsewhere,  what  I  am 
can  never  alter  what  I  loas.  For  three  years  past  all  that  a 
sincerely  penitent  woman  can  do  I  have  done.  It  doesn't 
matter !  Once  let  my  past  story  be  known,  and  the  shadow 
of  it  covers  me ;  the  kindest  people  shrink." 

She  waited  again.  Would  a  word  of  sympathy  come  to 
comfort  her  from  the  other  woman's  lips  ?  No  !  Miss  Rose- 


20  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

berry  was  shocked ;  Miss  Roseberry  was  confused.  "  I  am 
very  sorry  for  you,"  was  all  that  Miss  Rosebevry  could  say. 

"Every  body  is  sorry  for  me,"  answered  the  nurse,  as 
patiently  as  ever ;  "  every  body  is  kind  to  me.  But  the  lost 
place  is  not  to  be  regained.  I  can't  get  back !  I  can't  get 
back?"  she  cried,  with  a  passionate  outburst  of  despair — 
checked  instantly  the  moment  it  had  escaped  her.  "Shall 
I  tell  you  what  my  experience  has  been  ?"  she  resumed. 
"  Will  you  hear  the  story  of  Magdalen — in  modern  times  ?" 

Grace  drew  back  a  step ;  Mercy  instantly  understood  her. 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  nothing  that  you  need  shrink  from 
hearing,"  she  said.  "A  lady  in  your  position  would  not  un- 
derstand the  trials  and  the  struggles  that  I  have  passed 
through.  My  story  shall  begin  at  the  Refuge.  The  matron 
sent  me  out  to  service  with  the  character  that  I  had  honestly 
earned — the  character  of  a  reclaimed  woman.  I  justified  the 
confidence  placed  in  me ;  I  was  a  faithful  servant.  One  day 
my  mistress  sent  for  me — a  kind  mistress,  if  ever  there  was 
one  yet.  '  Mercy,  I  am  sorry  for  you  ;  it  has  come  out  that 
I  took  you  from  a  Refuge;  I  shall  lose  every  servant  in  the 
house ;  you  must  go.'  I  went  back  to  the  matron — another 
kind  woman.  She  received  me  like  a  mother.  *  We  will  try 
again,  Mercy ;  don't  be  cast  down.'  I  told  you  I  had  been 
in  Canada  ?" 

Grace  began  to  feel  interested  in  spite  of  herself.  She  an- 
swered with  something  like  warmth  in  her  tone.  She  return- 
ed to  her  chair — placed  at  its  safe  and  significant  distance 
from  the  chest. 

The  nurse  went  on  : 

"  My  next  place  was  in  Canada,  with  an  officer's  wife  :  gen- 
tlefolks who  had  emigrated.  More  kindness  ;  and,  this  time, 
a  pleasant,  peaceful  life  for  me.  I  said  to  myself,  '  Is  the 
lost  place  regained  ?  Have  I  got  back  ?'  My  mistress  died. 
New  people  came  into  our  neighborhood.  There  was  a  young 
lady  among  them — my  master  began  to  think  of  another  wife, 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  2l 

I  have  the  misfortune  (in  my  situation)  to  be  what  is  called  a 
handsome  woman  ;  I  rouse  the  curiosity  of  strangers.  The 
new  people  asked  questions  about  me ;  my  master's  answers 
did  not  satisfy  them.  In  a  word,  they  found  me  out.  The 
old  story  again  !  '  Mercy,  I  am  very  sorry  ;  scandal  is  busy 
with  you  and  with  me ;  we  are  innocent,  but  there  is  no  help 
for  it — we  must  part.'  I  left  the  place ;  having  gained  one 
advantage  during  my  stay  in  Canada,  which  I  find  of  use  to 
me  here." 

«  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Our  nearest  neighbors  were  French  Canadians.  I  learned 
to  speak  the  French  language." 

"  Did  you  return  to  London  ?" 

"  Where  else  could  I  go,  without  a  character  ?"  said  Mercy, 
sadly.  "I  went  back  again  to  the  matron.  Sickness  had 
broken  out  in  the  Refuge ;  I  made  myself  useful  as  a  nurse. 
One  of  the  doctors  was  struck  with  me — '  fell  in  love '  with 
me,  as  the  phrase  is.  He  would  have  married  me.  The 
nurse,  as  an  honest  woman,  was  bound  to  tell  him  the  truth. 
He  never  appeared  again.  The  old  story  !  I .  began  to  be 
weary  of  saying  to  myself,  '  I  can't  get  back  !  I  can't  get 
back  !'  Despair  got  hold  of  me,  the  despair  that  hardens  the 
heart.  I  might  have  committed  suicide ;  I  might  even  have 
drifted  back  into  my  old  life — but  for  one  man." 

At  those  last  words  her  voice — quiet  and  even  through  the 
earlier  part  of  her  sad  story — began  to  falter  once  more.  She 
stopped,  following  silently  the  memories  and  associations 
roused  in  her  by  what  she  had  just  said.  Had  she  forgotten 
the  presence  of  another  person  in  the  room  ?  Grace's  curios- 
ity left  Grace  no  resource  but  to  say  a  word  on  her  side. 

"  Who  was  the  man  ?"  she  asked.  "  How  did  he  befriend 
you  ?" 

"  Befriend  me  ?  He  doesn't  even  know  that  such  a  person 
as  I  am  is  in  existence." 

Fhat  strange  answer,  naturally  enough,  only  strengthened 


22  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

the  anxiety  of  Grace  to  hear  more.  "  You  said  just  now — " 
she  began. 

"  I  said  just  now  that  he  saved  me.  He  did  save  me  ;  you 
shall  hear  how.  One  Sunday  our  regular  clergyman  at  the 
Refuge  was  not  able  to  officiate.  His  place  was  taken  by  a 
stranger,  quite  a  young  man.  The  matron  told  us  the  stranger's 
name  was  Julian  Gray.  I  sat  in  the  back  row  of  seats,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  gallery,  where  I  could  see  .him  without  his 
seeing  me.  His  text  was  from  the  words,  '  Joy  shall  be  in 
heaven  over  one  sinner  that  repenteth,  more  than  over  ninety 
and  nine  just  persons,  which  need  no  repentance.'  What 
happier  women  might  have  thought  of  his  sermon  I  can  not 
say ;  there  was  not  a  dry  eye  among  us  at  the  Refuge.  As 
for  me,  he  touched  my  heart  as  no  man  has  touched  it  before 
or  since.  The  hard  despair  melted  in  me  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice ;  the  weary  round  of  my  life  showed  its  nobler  side 
again  while  he  spoke.  From  that  time  I  have  accepted  my 
hard  lot,  I  have  been  a  patient  woman.  I  might  have  been 
something  more,  I  might  have  been  a  happy  woman,  if  I  could 
have  prevailed  on  myself  to  speak  to  Julian  Gray." 

"  What  hindered  you  from  speaking  to  him  ?" 

"  I  was  afraid." 

"Afraid  of  what?" 

"  Afraid  of  making  ray  hard  life  harder  still." 

A  woman  who  could  have  sympathized  with  her  would  per- 
haps have  guessed  what  those  words  meant.  Grace  was  sim- 
ply embarrassed  by  her ;  and  Grace  failed  to  guess. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said. 

There  was  no  alternative  for  Mercy  but  to  own  the  truth  in 
plain  words.  She  sighed,  and  said  the  words.  "  I  was  afraid 
I  might  interest  him  in  my  sorrows,  and  might  set  my  heart 
on  him  in  return."  The  utter  absence  of  any  fellow-feeling 
with  her  on  Grace's  side  expressed  itself  unconsciously  in  the 
plainest  terms. 

"  You !"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  blank  astonishment. 


THE    XKW    MAGDALEN.  23 

The  nurse  rose  slowly  to  her  feet.  Grace's  expression  of 
surprise  told  her  plainly — almost  brutally — that  her  confes- 
sion had  gone  far  enough. 

"  I  astonish  you  ?"  she  said.  "Ah,  my  young  lady,  you 
don't  know  what  rough  usage  a  woman's  heart  can  bear,  and 
still  beat  truly !  Before  I  saw  Julian  Gray  I  only  knew  men 
as  objects  of  horror  to  me.  Let  us  drop  the  subject.  The 
preacher  at  the  Refuge  is  nothing  but  a  remembrance  now — 
the  one  welcome  remembrance  of  my  life !  I  have  nothing 
more  to  tell  you.  You  insisted  on  hearing  my  story — you 
have  heard  it." 

"  I  have  not  heard  how  you  found  employment  here,"  said 
Grace,  continuing  the  conversation  with  uneasy  politeness,  as 
she  best  might. 

Mercy  crossed  the  room,  and  slowly  raked  together  the  last 
living  embers  of  the  fire. 

"The  matron  has  friends  in  France,"  she  answered,  "who 
are  connected  with  the  military  hospitals.  It  was  not  diffi- 
cult to  get  me  the  place,  under  those  circumstances.  Society 
can  find  a  use  for  me  here.  My  hand  is  as  light,  my  words 
of  comfort  are  as  welcome,  among  those  suffering  wretches" 
(she  pointed  to  the  room  in  which  the  wounded  men  were  ly- 
ing) "  as  if  I  was  the  most  reputable  woman  breathing.  And 
if  a  stray  shot  comes  my  way  before  the  war  is  over — well ! 
Society  will  be  rid  of  me  on  easy  terms." 

She  stood  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  wreck  of  the  fire — 
as  if  she  saw  in  it  the  wreck  of  her  own  life.  Common  hu- 
manity made  it  an  act  of  necessity  to  say  something  to  her. 
Grace  considered — advanced  a  step  toward  her — stopped — 
and  took  refuge  in  the  most  trivial  of  all  the  common  phrases 
which  one  human  being  can  address  to  another. 

"  If  there  is  any  thing  I  can  do  for  you — "  she  began.  The 
sentence,  halting  there,  was  never  finished.  Miss  Roseberry 
was  just  merciful  enough  toward  the  lost  woman  who  had  res- 
cued and  sheltered  her  to  feel  that  it  was  needless  to  say  more. 


24  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

The  nurse  lifted  her  noble  head  and  advanced  slowly  to- 
ward the  canvas  screen  to  return  to  her  duties.  "  Miss  Rose- 
berry  might  have  taken  ray  hand !"  she  thought  to  herself, 
bitterly.  No  !  Miss  Roseberry  stood  there  at  a  distance,  at 
a  loss  what  to  say  next.  "  What  can  you  do  for  me  ?"  Mercy 
asked,  stung  by  the  cold  courtesy  of  her  companion  into  a 
momentary  outbreak  of  contempt.  "  Can  you  change  my 
identity  ?  Can  you  give  me  the  name  and  the  place  of  an  in- 
nocent woman  ?  If  I  only  had  your  chance  !  If  I  only  had 
your  reputation  and  your  prospects  !"  She  laid  one  hand 
over  her  bosom,  and  controlled  herself.  "  Stay  here,"  she  re- 
sumed, "  while  I  go  back  to  my  work.  I  will  see  that  your 
clothes  are  dried.  You  shall  wear  my  clothes  as  short  a 
time  as  possible." 

With  those  melancholy  words  —  touchingly,  not  bitterly 
spoken — she  moved  to  pass  into  the  kitchen,  when  she  no- 
ticed that  the  pattering  sound  of  the  rain  against  the  windoV 
was  audible  no  more.  Dropping  the  canvas  for  the  moment, 
she  retraced  her  steps,  and,  unfastening  the  wooden  shutter, 
looked  out. 

The  moon  was  rising  dimly  in  the  watery  sky;  the  rain 
had  ceased ;  the  friendly  darkness  which  had  hidden  the 
French  position  from  the  German  scouts  was  lessening  every 
moment.  In  a  few  hours  more  (if  nothing  happened)  the  En- 
glish lady  might  resume  her  journey.  In  a  few  hours  more 
the  morning  would  dawn. 

Mercy  lifted  her  hand  to  close  the  shutter.  Before  she 
could  fasten  it  the  report  of  a  rifle-shot  reached  the  cottage 
from  one  of  the  distant  posts.  It  was  followed  almost  in- 
stantly by  a  second  report,  nearer  and  louder  than  the  first. 
Mercy  paused,  with  the  shutter  in  her  hand,  and  listened  in- 
tently  for  the  next  sound. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALBN.  25 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE    GERMAN   SHELL. 

A  THIRD  rifle-shot  rang  through  the  night  air,  close  to 
the  cottage.  Grace  started  and  approached  the  window  in 
alarm. 

"  What  does  that  firing  mean  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Signals  from  the  outposts,"  the  nurse  quietly  replied. 

"  Is  there  any  danger  ?    Have  the  Germans  come  back  ?" 

Surgeon  Surville  answered  the  question.  He  lifted  the  can- 
vas screen,  and  looked  into  the  room  as  Miss  Roseberry 
spoke. 

"The  Germans  are  advancing  on  us,"  he  said.  "Their 
van-guard  is  in  sight." 

Grace  sank  on  the  chair  near  her,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot.  Mercy  advanced  to  the  surgeon,  and  put  the  decisive 
question  to  him. 

"  Do  we  defend  the  position  ?"  she  inquired. 

Surgeon  Surville  ominously  shook  his  head. 

"  Impossible !     We  are  outnumbered  as  usual — ten  to  one." 

The  shrill  roll  of  the  French  drums  was  heard  outside. 

"  There  is  the  retreat  sounded  !"  said  the  surgeon.  "  The 
captain  is  not  a  man  to  think  twice  about  what  he  does.  We 
are  left  to  take  care  of  ourselves.  In  five  minutes  we  must 
be  out  of  this  place." 

A  volley  of  rifle-shots  rang  out  as  he  spoke.  The  German 
van-guard  was  attacking  the  French  at  the  outposts.  Grace 
caught  the  surgeon  entreatingly  by  the  arm.  "  Take  me  with 
you,"  she  cried.  "  Oh,  sir,  I  have  suffered  from  the  Germans 
already  !  Don't  forsake  me,  if  they  come  back  !"  The  sur- 
geon was  equal  to  the  occasion  ;  he  placed  the  hand  of  the 
pretty  Englishwoman  on  his  breast.  "  Fear  nothing,  madam," 

2 


26  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

he  said,  looking  as  if  he  could  have  annihilated  the  whole 
German  force  with  his  own  invincible  arm.  "A  Frenchman's 
heart  beats  under  your  hand.  A  Frenchman's  devotion  pro- 
tects you."  Grace's  head  sank  on  his  shoulder.  Monsieur 
Surville  felt  that  he  had  asserted  himself ;  he  looked  round 
invitingly  at  Mercy.  She,  too,  was  an  attractive  woman. 
The  Frenchman  had  another  shoulder  at  her  service.  Un- 
happily the  room  was  dark  —  the  look  was  lost  on  Mercy. 
She  was  thinking  of  the  helpless  men  in  the  inner  chamber, 
and  she  quietly  recalled  the  surgeon  to  a  sense  of  his  profes- 
sional duties. 

"  What  is  to  become  of  the  sick  and  wounded  ?"  she  asked. 

Monsieur  Surville  shrugged  one  shoulder  —  the  shoulder 
that  was  free. 

"The  strongest  among  them  we  can  take  away  with  us," 
he  said.  "  The  others  must  be  left  here.  Fear  nothing  for 
yourself,  dear  lady.  There  will  be  a  place  for  you  in  the  bag- 
gage-wagon." 

"And  for  me,  too  ?"  Grace  pleaded,  eagerly. 

The  surgeon's  invincible  arm  stole  round  the  young  lady's 
waist,  and  answered  mutely  with  a  squeeze. 

"  Take  her  with  you,"  said  Mercy.  "  My  place  is  with  the 
men  whom  you  leave  behind." 

Grace  listened  in  amazement.  "Think  what  you  risk," 
she  said,  "  if  you  stop  here." 

Mercy  pointed  to  her  left  shoulder. 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself  on  my  account,"  she  answered ;  "  the 
red  cross  will  protect  me." 

Another  roll  of  the  drum  warned  the  susceptible  surgeon 
to  take  his  place  as  director-general  of  the  ambulance  with- 
out any  further  delay.  He  conducted  Grace  to  a  chair,  and 
placed  both  her  hands  on  his  heart  this  time,  to  reconcile  her 
to  the  misfortune  of  his  absence.  "Wait  here  till  I  return 
for  you,"  he  whispered.  "Fear  nothing,  my  charming  friend. 
Say  to  yourself,  *  Surville  is  the  soul  of  honor  !  Surville  is 


WHERE   18    IT   SAFEST?"    SHE   CRIKP.        "  WHERE  CAN  I   HIDE  MYSELF? 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  27 

devoted  to  me  !'"  He  struck  his  breast;  he  again  forgot  the 
obscurity  in  the  room,  and  cast  one  look  of  unutterable  hom- 
age at  his  charming  friend.  "A  bientotf"  he  cried,  and  kiss- 
ed his  hand  and  disappeared. 

As  the  canvas  screen  fell  over  him  the  sharp  report  of  the 
rifle-firing  was  suddenly  and  grandly  dominated  by  the  roar 
of  cannon.  The  instant  after  a  shell  exploded  in  the  garden 
outside,  within  a  few  yards  of  the  window. 

Grace  sai.k  on  her  knees  with  a  shriek  of  terror.  Mercy, 
without  losing  her  self-possession,  advanced  to  the  window 
and  looked  out. 

"  The  moon  has  risen,"  she  said.  "  The  Germans  are  shell- 
ing the  village." 

Grace  rose,  and  ran  to  her  for  protection. 

"  Take  me  away !"  she  cried.  "  We  shall  be  killed  if  we 
stay  here."  She  stopped,  looking  in  astonishment  at  the  tall 
black  figure  of  the  nurse,  standing  immovably  by  the  window. 
"'Are  you  made  of  iron?"  she  exclaimed.  "Will  nothing 
frighten  you  ?" 

Mercy  smiled  sadly.  "Why  should  I  be  afraid  of  losing 
my  life  ?"  she  answered.  "  I  have  nothing  worth  living  for  !" 

The  roar  of  the  cannon  shook  the  cottage  for  the  second 
time.  A  second  shell  exploded  in  the  court-yard,  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  building. 

Bewildered  by  the  noise,  panic-stricken  as  the  danger  from 
the  shells  threatened  the  cottage  more  and  more  nearly,  Grace 
threw  her  arms  round  the  nurse,  and  clung,  in  the  abject  fa- 
miliarity of  terror,  to  the  woman  whose  hand  she  had  shrunk 
from  touching  not  five  minutes  since.  "Where  is  it  safest?" 
she  cried.  "  Where  can  I  hide  myself  ?" 

"How  can  I  tell  where  the  next  shell  will  fall?"  Mercy  an- 
swered, quietly. 

The  steady  composure  of  the  one  woman  seemed  to  mad- 
den the  other.  Releasing  the  nurse,  Grace  looked  wildly 
round  for  a  way  of  escape  from  the  cottage.  Making  first 


28  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

for  the  kitchen,  she  was  driven  back  by  the  clamor  and  con- 
fusion attending  the  removal  of  those  among  the  wounded 
who  were  strong  enough  to  be  placed  in  the  wagon.  A  sec- 
ond look  round  showed  her  the  door  leading  into  the  yard. 
She  rushed  to  it  with  a  cry  of  relief.  She  had  just  laid  her 
hand  on  the  lock  when  the  third  report  of  cannon  burst  over 
the  place. 

Starting  back  a  step,  Grace  lifted  her  hands  mechanically  to 
her  ears.  At  the  same  moment  the  third  shell  burst  through 
the  roof  of  the  cottage,  and  exploded  in  the  room,  just  inside 
the  door.  Mercy  sprang  forward,  unhurt,  from  her  place  at 
the  window.  The  burning  fragments  of  the  shell  were  al- 
ready firing  the  dry  wooden  floor,  and  in  the  midst  of  them, 
dimly  seen  through  the  smoke,  lay  the  insensible  body  of  her 
companion  in  the  room.  Even  at  that  dreadful  moment  the 
nurse's  presence  of  mind  did  not  fail  her.  Hurrying  back  to 
the  place  that  she  had  just  left,  near  which  she  had  already 
noticed  the  miller's  empty  sacks  lying  in  a  heap,  she  seized 
two  of  them,  and,  throwing  them  on  the  smouldering  floor, 
trampled  out  the  fhme.  That  done,  she  knelt  by  the  senseless 
woman,  and  lifted  her  head. 

Was  she  wounded  ?  or  dead  ? 

Mercy  raised  one  helpless  hand,  and  laid  her  fingers  on  the 
wrist.  While  she  was  still  vainly  trying  to  feel  for  the  beat- 
ing of  the  pulse,  Surgeon  Surville  (alarmed  for  the  ladies) 
hurried  in  to  inquire  if  any  harm  had  been  done. 

Mercy  called  to  him  to  approach.  "  I  am  afraid  the  shell 
has  struck  her,"  she  said,  yielding  her  place  to  him.  "  See 
if  she  is  badly  hurt." 

The  sui-geon's  anxiety  for  his  charming  patient  expressed 
itself  briefly  in  an  oath,  with  a  prodigious  emphasis  laid  on 
one  of  the  letters  in  it — the  letter  R.  "  Take  off  her  cloak," 
he  cried,  raising  his  hand  to  her  neck.  "  Poor  angel !  She 
has  turned  in  falling ;  the  string  is  twisted  round  her  throat." 

Mercy  removed  the  cloak.     It  dropped  on  the  floor  as  the 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  29 

surgeon  lifted  Grace  in  his  arms.  "  Get  a  candle,"  he  said, 
impatiently ;  "  they  will  give  you  one  in  the  kitchen."  He 
tried  to  feel  the  pulse :  his  hand  trembled,  the  noise  and  con- 
fusion in  the  kitchen  bewildered  him.  "  Just  Heaven !"  he 
exclaimed.  "  My  emotions  overpower  me !"  Mercy  approach- 
ed him  with  the  candle.  The  light  disclosed  the  frightful  in- 
jury which  a  fragment  of  the  shell  had  inflicted  on  the  En- 
glishwoman's head.  Surgeon  Surville's  manner  altered  on 
the  instant.  The  expression  of  anxiety  left  his  face ;  its  pro- 
fessional composure  covered  it  suddenly  like  a  mask.  What 
was  the  object  of  his  admiration  now  ?  An  inert  burden  in 
his  arms — nothing  more. 

The  change  in  his  face  was  not  lost  on  Mercy.  Her  large 
gray  eyes  watched  him  attentively.  "  Is  the  lady  seriously 
wounded  ?"  she  asked.  . 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself  to  hold  the  light  any  longer,"  was 
the  cool  reply.  "  It's  all  over — I  can  do  nothing  for  her." 

"Dead?" 

Surgeon  Surville  nodded,  and  shook  his  fist  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  outposts.  "Accursed  Germans  !"  he  cried,  and 
looked  down  at  the  dead  face  on  his  arm,  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  resignedly.  "  The  fortune  of  war  !"  he  said,  as  he 
lifted  the  body  and  placed  it  on  the  bed  in  one  corner  of  the 
room.  "Next  time,  nurse,  it  may  be  you  or  me.  Who 
knows  ?  Bah  !  the  problem  of  human  destiny  disgusts  me." 
He  turned  from  the  bed,  ar  d  illustrated  his  disgust  by  spit- 
ting on  the  fragments  of  the  exploded  shell.  "We  must 
leave  her  there,"  he  resumed.  "  She  was  once  a  charming 
person — she  is  nothing  now.  Come  away,  Miss  Mercy,  be- 
fore it  is  too  late." 

He  offered  his  arm  to  the  nurse ;  the  creaking  of  the  bag- 
gage-wagon, starting  on  its  journey,  was  heard  outside,  and 
the  shrill  roll  of  the  drums  was  renewed  in  the  distance. 
The  retreat  had  begun. 

Mercy  drew  aside  the  canvas,  and  saw  the  badly  wounded 


30  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

men,  left  helpless  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy,  on  their  straw 
beds.  She  refused  the  offer  of  Monsieur  Surville's  arm. 

"  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  shall  stay  here,"  she  an- 
swered. 

Monsieur  Surville  lifted  his  hands  in  polite  remonstrance. 
Mercy  held  back  the  curtain,  and  pointed  to  the  cottage  door. 

"  Go,"  she  said.     "  My  mind  is  made  up." 

Even  at  that  final  moment  the  Frenchman  asserted  himself. 
He  made  his  exit  with  unimpaired  grace  and  dignity.  "  Mad- 
am," he  said,  "  you  are  sublime  !"  With  that  parting  com- 
pliment the  man  of  gallantry — true  to  the  last  to  his  admira- 
tion of  the  sex — bowed,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  left 
the  cottage. 

Mercy  dropped  the  canvas  over  the  door-way.  She  was 
alone  with  the  dead  woman. 

The  last  tramp  of  footsteps,  the  last  rumbling  of  the  wagon 
wheels,  died  away  in  the  distance.  No  renewal  of  firing 
from  the  position  occupied  by  the  enemy  disturbed  the  si- 
lence that  followed.  The  Germans  knew  that  the  French 
were  in  retreat.  A  few  minutes  more  and  they  would  take 
possession  of  the  abandoned  village :  the  tumult  of  their  ap- 
proach would  become  audible  at  the  cottage.  In  the  mean 
time  the  stillness  was  terrible.  Even  the  wounded  wretches 
who  were  left  in  the  kitchen  waited  their  fate  in  silence. 

Alone  _in  the  room,  Mercy's  first  look  was  directed  to  the 
bed. 

The  two  women  had  met  in  the  confusion  of  the  first 
skirmish  at  the  close  of  twilight.  Separated,  on  their  arrival 
at  the  cottage,  by  the  duties  required  of  the  nurse,  they  had 
only  met  again  in  the  captain's  room.  The  acquaintance  be- 
tween them  had  been  a  short  one ;  and  it  had  given  no  prom- 
ise of  ripening  into  friendship.  But  the  fatal  accident  had 
roused  Mercy's  interest  in  the  stranger.  She  took  the  candle, 
and  approached  the  corpse  of  the  woman  who  had  been  liter- 
ally killed  at  her  side. 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  31 

She  stood  by  the  bed,  looking  down  in  the  silence  of  the 
night  at  the  stillness  of  the  dead  face. 

It  was  a  striking  face — once  seen  (in  life  or  in  death)  not 
to  be  forgotten  afterward.  The  forehead  was  unusually  low 
and  broad ;  the  eyes  unusually  far  apart ;  the,  mouth  and 
chin  remarkably  small.  With  tender  hands  Mercy  smoothed 
the  disheveled  hair  and  arranged  the  crumpled  dress.  "  Not 
five  minutes  since,"  she  thought  to  herself, "  I  was  longing  to 
change  places  with  yow/"  She  turned  from  the  bed  with  a 
sigh.  "  I  wish  I  could  change  places  now  !" 

The  silence  began  to  oppress  her.  She  walked  slowly  to 
the  other  end  of  the  room. 

The  cloak  on  the  floor — her  own  cloak,  which  she  had  lent 
to  Miss  Roseberry — attracted  her  attention  as  she  passed  it. 
She  picked  it  up  and  brushed  the  dust  from  it,  and  laid  it 
across  a  chair.  This  done,  she  put  the  light  back  on  the 
table,  and  going  to  the  window,  listened  for  the  first  sounds 
of  the  German  advance.  The  faint  passage  of  the  wind 
through  some  trees  near  at  hand  was  the  only  sound  that 
caught  her  ears.  She  turned  from  the  window,  and  seated 
herself  at  the  table,  thinking.  Was  there  any  duty  still  left 
undone  that  Christian  charity  owed  to  the  dead?  Was  there 
any  further  service  that  pressed  for  performance  in  the  inter- 
val before  the  Germans  appeared  ? 

Mercy  recalled  the  conversation  that  had  passed  between 
her  ill-fated  companion  and  herself.  Miss  Roseberry  had 
spoken  of  her  object  in  returning  to  England.  She  had  men- 
tioned a  lady — a  connection  by  marriage,  to  whom  she  was 
personally  a  stranger — who  was  waiting  to  receive  her.  Some 
one  capable  of  stating  how  the  poor  creature  had  met  with 
her  death  ought  to  write  to  her  only  friend.  Who  was  to  do 
it  ?  There  was  nobody  to  do  it  but  the  one  witness  of  the 
catastrophe  now  left  in  the  cottage — Mercy  herself. 

She  lifted  the  cloak  from  the  chair  on  which  she  had  placed 
it,  and  took  from  the  pocket  the  leather  letter-case  which 

2* 


32  THE  NEW  MAGDALEN. 

Grace  had  shown  to  her.  The  only  way  of  discovering  the 
address  to  write  to  in  England  was  to  open  the  case  and  ex- 
amine the  papers  inside.  Mercy  opened  the  case — and  stop- 
ped, feeling  a  strange  reluctance  to  carry  the  investigation 
any  further. 

A  moment's  consideration  satisfied  her  that  her  scruples 
were  misplaced.  If  she  respected  the  case  as  inviolable,  the 
Germans  would  certainly  not  hesitate  to  examine  it,  and 
the  Germans  would  hardly  trouble  themselves  to  write  to 
England.  Which  were  the  fittest  eyes  to  inspect  the  papers 
of  the  deceased  lady — the  eyes  of  men  and  foreigners,  or  the 
eyes  of  her  own  countrywoman  ?  Mercy's  hesitation  left  her. 
She  emptied  the  contents  of  the  case  on  the  table. 

That  trifling  action  decided  the  whole  future  course  of  her 
life. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    TEMPTATION. 

SOME  letters,  tied  together  with  a  ribbon,  attracted  Mercy's 
attention  first.  The  ink  in  which  the  addresses  were  writ- 
ten had  faded  with  age.  The  letters,  directed  alternately  to 
Colonel  Roseberry  and  to  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Roseberry,  con- 
tained a  correspondence  between  the  husband  and  wife  at  a 
time  when  the  Colonel's  military  duties  had  obliged  him  to 
be  absent  from  home.  Mercy  tied  the  letters  up  again,  and 
passed  on  to  the  papers  that  lay  next  in  order  under  her  hand. 

These  consisted  of  a  few  leaves  pinned  together,  and  headed 
(in  a  woman's  handwriting),  "  My  Journal  at  Rome."  A 
brief  examination  showed  that  the  journal  had  been  written 
by  Miss  Roseberry,  and  that  it  was  mainly  devoted  to  a  rec- 
ord of  the  last  days  of  her  father's  life. 

After  replacing  the  journal  and  the  correspondence  in  the 
case,  the  one  paper  left  on  the  table  was  a  letter.  The  enve- 
lope, which  was  unclosed,  bore  this  address :  "  Lady  Janet 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  33 

Roy,  Mablethorpe  House,  Kensington,  London."  Mercy  took 
the  inclosure  from  the  open  envelope.  The  first  lines  she 
read  informed  her  that  she  had  found  the  Colonel's  letter  of 
introduction,  presenting  his  daughter  to  her  protectress  on 
her  arrival  in  England. 

Mercy  read  the  letter  through.  It  was  described  by  the 
writer  as  the  last  efforts  of  a  dying  man.  Colonel  Roseber- 
ry  wrote  affectionately  of  his  daughter's  merits,  and  regret- 
fully of  her  neglected  education — ascribing  the  latter  to  the 
pecuniary  losses  whion  had  forced  him  to  emigrate  to  Can- 
ada in  the  character  of  a  poor  man.  Fervent  expressions  of 
gratitude  followed,  addressed  to  Lady  Janet.  "I  owe  it  to 
you,"  the  letter  concluded, "  that  I  am  dying  with  my  mind 
at  ease  about  the  future  of  my  darling  girl.  To  your  gener- 
ous protection  I  commit  the  one  treasure  I  have  left  to  me  on 
earth.  Through  your  long  lifetime  you  have  nobly  used  your 
high  rank  and  your  great  fortune  as  a  means  of  doing  good. 
I  believe  it  will  not  be  counted  among  the  least  of  your  virtues 
hereafter  that  you  comforted  the  last  hours  of  an  old  soldier 
by  opening  your  he?;  t  and  your  home  to  his  friendless  child." 

So  the  letter  ended.  Mercy  laid  it  down  with  a  heavy 
heart.  What  a  chance  the  poor  girl  had  lost !  A  woman  of 
rank  and  fortune  waiting  to  receive  her — a  woman  so  mer- 
ciful and  so  generous  that  the  father's  mind  had  been  easy 
about  the  daughter  jn  his  death-bed — and  there  the  daugh- 
ter lay,  beyond  the  reach  of  Lady  Janet's  kindness,  beyond 
the  need  of  Lady  Janet's  help  ! 

The  French  captain's  writing-materials  were  left  on  the  ta- 
ble. Mercy  turned  the  letter  over  so  that  she  might  write 
the  news  of  Miss  Roseberry's  death  on  the  blank  page  at  the 
end.  She  was  still  considering  what  expressions  she  should 
use,  when  the  sound  of  complaining  voices  from  the  next 
room  caught  her  ear.  The  wounded  men  left  behind  were 
moaning  for  help — the  deserted  soldiers  were  losing  their  for- 
titude at  last. 


84  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

She  entered  the  kitchen.  A  cry  of  delight  welcomed  her 
appearance — the  mere  sight  of  her  composed  the  men.  From 
one  straw  bed  to  another  she  passed  with  comforting  words 
that  gave  them  hope,  with  skilled  and  tender  hands  that 
soothed  their  pain.  They  kissed  the  hem  of  her  black  dress, 
they  called  her  their  guardian  angel,  as  the  beautiful  creature 
moved  among  them,  and  bent  over  their  hard  pillows  her  gen- 
tle, compassionate  face.  "  I  will  be  with  you  when  the  Ger- 
mans come,"  she  said,  as  she  left  them  to  return  to  her  un- 
written letter.  "  Courage,  my  poor  fellows  !  you  are  not  de- 
serted by  your  nurse." 

"  Courage,  madam !"  the  men  replied ;  "  and  God  bless 
you !" 

If  the  firing  had  been  resumed  at  that  moment — if  a  shell 
had  struck  her  dead  in  the  act  of  succoring  the  afflicted,  what 
Christian  judgment  would  have  hesitated  to  declare  that 
there  was  a  place  for  this  woman  in  heaven  ?  But  if  the  war 
ended  and  left  her  still  living,  where  was  the  place  for  her  on 
earth  ?  Where  were  her  prospects  ?  Where  was  her  home  ? 

She  returned  to  the  letter.  Instead,  however,  of  seating 
herself  to  write,  she  stood  by  the  table,  absently  looking  down 
at  the  morsel  of  paper. 

A  strange  fancy  had  sprung  to  life  in  her  mind  on  re-enter- 
ing the  room ;  she  herself  smiled  faintly  at  the  extravagance 
of  it.  What  if  she  were  to  ask  Lady  Janet  Roy  to  let  her 
supply  Miss  Roseberry's  place?  She  had  met  with  Miss 
Roseberry  under  critical  circumstances,  and  she  had  done  for 
her  all  that  one  woman  could  do  to  help  another.  There 
was  in  this  circumstance  some  little  claim  to  notice,  perhaps, 
if  Lady  Janet  had  no  other  companion  and  reader  in  view. 
Suppose  she  ventured  to  plead  her  own  cause — what  would 
the  noble  and  merciful  lady  do  ?  She  would  write  back,  and 
say, "  Send  me  references  to  your  character,  and  I  will  see 
what  can  be  done."  Her  character !  Her  references  !  Mercy 
laughed  bittei'ly,  and  sat  down  to  write  in  the  fewest  words 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  3C 

all  that  was  needed  from  her  —  a  plain  statement  01  the 
facts. 

No !  Not  a  line  could  she  put  on  the  paper.  That  fancy 
of  hers  was  not  to  be  dismissed  at  will.  Her  mind  was  per- 
versely busy  now  with  an  imaginative  picture  of  the  beauty 
of  Mablethorpe  House  and  the  comfort  and  elegance  of  the 
life  that  was  led  there.  Once  more  she  thought  of  the  chance 
which  Miss  Roseberry  had  lost.  Unhappy  creature !  what  a 
home  would  have  been  open  to  her  if  the  shell  had  only  fallen 
on  the  side  of  the  window,  instead  of  on  the  side  of  the  yard  ! 

Mercy  pushed  the  letter  away  from  her,  and  walked  impa- 
tiently to  and  fro  in  the  room. 

The  perversity  in  her  thoughts  was  not  to  be  mastered  in 
that  way.  Her  mind  only  abandoned  one  useless  train  of  re- 
flection to  occupy  itself  with  another.  She  was  now  looking 
by  anticipation  at  her  own  future.  What  were  her  prospects 
(if  she  lived  through  it)  when  the  war  was  over  ?  The  ex- 
perience of  the  past  delineated  with  pitiless  fidelity  the  dreary 
scene.  Go  where  she  might,  do  what  she  might,  it  would 
end  always  in  the  same  way.  Curiosity  and  admiration  ex- 
cited by  her  beauty;  inquiries  made  about  her ;  the  story  of 
the  past  discovered  ;  Society  charitably  sorry  for  her ;  Socie- 
ty generously  subscribing  for  her ;  and  still,  through  all  the 
years  of  her  life,  the  same  result  in  the  end — the  shadow  of 
the  old  disgrace  surrounding  her  as  with  a  pestilence,  isola- 
ting her  among  other  women,  branding  her,  even  when  she 
had  earned  her  pardon  in  the  sight  of  God,  with  the  mark  of 
an  indelible  disgrace  in  the  sight  of  man  :  there  was  the  pros- 
pect !  And  she  was  only  five-and-twenty  last  birthday ;  she 
was  in  the  prime  of  her  health  and  her  strength  ;  she  might 
live,  in  the  course  of  nature,  fifty  years  more ! 

She  stopped  again  at  the  bedside ;  she  looked  again  at  the 
face  of  the  corpse. 

To  what  end  had  the  shell  struck  the  woman  who  had  some 
hope  in  her  life,  and  spared  the  woman  who  had  none  ?  Tho 


36  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

words  she  had  herself  spoken  to  Grace  Roseberry  came  back 
to  her  as  she  thought  of  it.  "  If  I  only  had  your  chance  !  If 
I  only  had  your  reputation  and  your  prospects  !"  And  there 
was  the  chance  wasted !  there  were  the  enviable  prospects 
thrown  away !  It  was  almost  maddening  to  contemplate 
that  result,  feeling  her  own  position  as  she  felt  it.  In  the 
bitter  mockery  of  despair  she  bent  over  the  lifeless  figure,  and 
spoke  to  it  as  if  it  had  ears  to  hear  her.  "  Oh !"  she  said, 
longingly,  "  if  you  could  be  Mercy  Merrick,  and  if  I  could  be 
Grace  Roseberry,  now!" 

The  instant  the  words  passed  her  lips  she  started  into  an 
erect  position.  She  stood  by  the  bed,  with  her  eyes  staring 
wildly  into  empty  space  ;  with  her  brain  in  a  flame ;  with  her 
heart  beating  as  if  it  would  stifle  her.  "  If  you  could  be 
Mercy  Merrick,  and  if  I  could  be  Grace  Roseberry,  now  !"  In 
one  breathless  moment  the  thought  assumed  a  new  develop- 
ment in  her  mind.  In  one  breathless  moment  the  conviction 
struck  her  like  an  electric  shock.  She  might  be  Grace  Rose- 
berry  if  she  dared  !  There  was  absolutely  nothing  to  stop 
her  from  presenting  herself  to  Lady  Janet  Roy  under  Grace's 
name  and  in  Grace's  place ! 

What  were  the  risks  ?  Where  was  the  weak  point  in  the 
scheme  ? 

Grace  had  said  it  herself  in  so  many  words — she  and  Lady 
Janet  had  never  seen  each  other.  Her  friends  were  in  Cana- 
da ;  her  relations  in  England  were  dead.  Mercy  knew  the 
place  in  which  she  had  lived — the  place  called  Port  Logan — 
as  well  as  she  had  known  it  herself.  Mercy  had  only  to  read 
the  manuscript  journal  to  be  able  to  answer  any  questions  re- 
lating to  the  visit  to  Rome  and  to  Colonel  Roseberry's  death. 
She  had  no  accomplished  lady  to  personate :  Grace  had  spoken 
herself — her  father's  letter  spoke  also  in  the  plainest  terms 
— of  her  neglected  education.  Every  thing,  literally  every 
thing,  was  in  the  lost  woman's  favor.  The  people  with  whom 
she  had  been  connected  in  the  ambulance  had  gone,  to  return 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  37 

no  more.  Her  own  clothes  were  on  Miss  Roseberry  at  that 
moment  —  marked  with  her  own  name.  Miss  Roseberry's 
clothes,  marked  with  her  name,  were  drying,  at  Mercy's  dis- 
posal, in  the  next  room.  The  way  of  escape  from  the  unen- 
durable humiliation  of  her  present  life  lay  open  before  her  at 
last.  What  a  prospect  it  was !  A  new  identity,  which  she 
might  own  anywhere  !  a  new  name,  which  was  beyond  re- 
proach !  a  new  past  life,  into  which  all  the  world  might 
search,  and  be  welcome !  Her  color  rose,  her  eyes  sparkled  ; 
she  had  never  been  so  irresistibly  beautiful  as  she  looked  at 
the  moment  when  the  new  future  disclosed  itself,  radiant 
with  new  hope. 

She  waited  a  minute,  until  she  could  look  at  her  own  dai'- 
ing  project  from  another  point  of  view.  Where  was  the 
harm  of  it?  what  did  her  conscience  say? 

As  to  Grace,  in  the  first  place.  What  injury  was  she  do- 
ing to  a  woman  who  was  dead  ?  The  question  answered  it- 
self. No  injury  to  the  woman.  No  injury  to  her  relations. 
Her  relations  were  dead  also. 

As  to  Lady  Janet,  in  the  second  place.  If  she  served  her 
new  mistress  faithfully,  if  she  filled  her  new  sphere  honorably, 
if  she  was  diligent  under  instruction  and  grateful  for  kind- 
ness —  if,  in  one  word,  she  was  all  that  she  might  be  and 
would  be  in  the  heavenly  peace  and  security  of  that  new  life 
— what  injury  was  she  doing  to  Lady  Janet?  Once  more  the 
question  answered  itself.  She  might,  and  would,  give  Lady 
Janet  cause  to  bless  the  day  when  she  first  entered  the  house. 

She  snatched  up  Colonel  Roseberry's  letter,  and  put  it 
into  the  case  with  the  other  papers.  The  opportunity  was 
before  her ;  the  chances  were  all  in  her  favor ;  her  conscience 
said  nothing  against  trying  the  daring  scheme.  She  decided 
then  and  there—"  I'll  do  it !" 

Something  jarred  on  her  finer  sense,  something  offended 
her  better  nature,  as  she  put  the  case  into  the  pocket  of  her 
dress.  She  had  decided,  and  yet  she  was  not  at  ease ;  she 


38  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

was  not  quite  sure  of  having  fairly  questioned  her  conscience 
yet.  What  if  she  laid  the  letter-case  on  the  table  again,  and 
waited  until  her  excitement  had  all  cooled  down,  and  then 
put  the  contemplated  project  soberly  on  its  trial  before  her 
own  sense  of  right  and  wrong  ? 

She  thought  once — and  hesitated.  Before  she  could  think 
twice,  the  distant  tramp  of  marching  footsteps  and  the  dis- 
tant clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  were  wafted  to  her  on  the  night 
air.  The  Germans  were  entering  the  village  !  In  a  few  min- 
utes more  they  would  appear  in  the  cottage;  they  would 
summon  her  to  give  an  account  of  herself.  There  was  no 
time  for  waiting  until  she  was  composed  again.  Which 
should  it  be — the  new  life,  as  Grace  Roseberry?  or  the  old 
life,  as  Mercy  Merrick  ? 

She  looked  for  the  last  time  at  the  bed.  Grace's  course 
was  run;  Grace's  future  was  at  her  disposal.  Her  resolute 
nature,  forced  to  a  choice  on  the  instant,  held  by  the  dar- 
ing alternative.  She  persisted  in  the  determination  to  take 
Grace's  place. 

The  tramping  footsteps  of  the  Germans  came  nearer  and 
nearer.  The  voices  of  the  officers  were  audible,  giving  the 
words  of  command. 

She  seated  herself  at  the  table,  waiting  steadily  for  what 
was  to  come. 

The  ineradicable  instinct  of  the  sex  directed  her  eyes  to  her 
dress,  before  the  Germans  appeared.  Looking  it  over  to  see 
that  it  was  in  perfect  order,  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  red  cross 
on  her  left  shoulder.  In  a  moment  it  struck  her  that  her 
nurse's  costume  might  involve  her  in  a  needless  risk.  It  as- 
sociated her  with  a  public  position ;  it  might  lead  to  inqui- 
ries at  a  later  time,  and  those  inquiries  might  betray  her. 

She  looked  round.  The  gray  cloak  which  she  had  lent  to 
Grace  attracted  her  attention.  She  took  it  up,  and  covered 
herself  with  it  from  head  to  foot. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  39 

The  cloak  was  just  arranged  round  her  when  she  heard  the 
outer  door  thrust  open,  and  voices  speaking  in  a  strange 
tongue,  and  arms  grounded  in  the  room  behind  her.  Should 
she  wait  to  be  discovered  ?  or  should  she  show  herself  of  her 
own  accord?  It  was  less  trying  to  such  a  nature  as  hers  to 
show  herself  than  to  wait.  She  advanced  to  enter  the  kitch- 
en. The  canvas  curtain,  as  she  stretched  out  her  hand  to  it, 
was  suddenly  drawn  back  from  the  other  side,  and  three  men 
confronted  her  in  the  open  door-way. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE    GERMAN    SURGEON. 

THE  youngest  of  the  three  strangers — judging  by  features, 
complexion,  and  manner  —  was  apparently  an  Englishman. 
He  wore  a  military  cap  and  military  boots,  but  was  otherwise 
dressed  as  a  civilian.  Next  to  him  stood  an  officer  in  Prus- 
sian uniform,  and  next  to  the  officer  was  the  third  and  the 
oldest  of  the  party.  He  also  was  dressed  in  uniform,  but  his 
appearance  was  far  from  being  suggestive  of  the  appearance 
of  a  military  man.  He  halted  on  one  foot,  he  stooped  at  the 
shoulders,  and  instead  of  a  sword  at  his  side  he  carried  a 
stick  in  his  hand.  After  looking  sharply  through  a  large 
pair  of  tortoise-shell  spectacles,  first  at  Mercy,  then  at  the  bed, 
then  all  round  the  room,  he  turned  with  a  cynical  composure 
of  manner  to  the  Prussian  officer,  and  broke  the  silence  in 
these  words : 

"  A  woman  ill  on  the  bed  ;  another  woman  in  attendance 
on  her,  and  no  one  else  in  the  room.  Any  necessity,  major, 
for  setting  a  guard  here  ?" 

"  No  necessity,"  answered  the  major.  He  wheeled  round 
on  his  heel  and  returned  to  the  kitchen.  The  German  sur- 
geon advanced  a  little,  led  by  his  professional  instinct,  in  the 
direction  of  the  bedside.  The  young  Englishman,  whose  eyes 


40  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

had  remained  riveted  in  admiration  on  Mercy,  drew  the  can- 
vas screen  over  the  door-way,  and  respectfully  addressed  her 
in  the  French  language. 

"  May  I  ask  if  I  am  speaking  to  a  French  lady  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  am  an  Englishwoman,"  Mercy  replied. 

The  surgeon  heard  the  answer.  Stopping  short  on  his  way 
to  the  bed,  he  pointed  to  the  recumbent  figure  on  it,  and  said 
to  Mercy,  in  good  English,  spoken  with  a  strong  German  ac- 
cent, 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  use  there  ?" 

His  manner  was  ironically  courteous,  his  harsh  voice  was 
pitched  in  one  sardonic  monotony  of  tone.  Mercy  took  an 
instantaneous  dislike  to  this  hobbling,  ugly  old  man,  staring 
at  her  rudely  through  his  great  tortoise-shell  spectacles. 

"  You  can  be  of  no  use,  sir,"  she  said,  shortly.  "  The  lady 
was  killed  when  your  troops  shelled  this  cottage." 

The  Englishman  started,  and  looked  compassionately  to- 
ward the  bed.  The  German  refreshed  himself  with  a  pinch 
of  snuff,  and  put  another  question. 

"  Has  the  body  been  examined  by  a  medical  man  ?"  he 
asked. 

Mercy  ungraciously  limited  her  reply  to  the  one  necessary 
word  «  Yes." 

The  present  surgeon  was  not  a  man  to  be  daunted  by 
a  lady's  disapproval  of  him.  He  went  on  with  his  ques- 
tions. 

"  Who  has  examined  the  body  ?"  he  inquired  next. 

Mercy  answered, "  The  doctor  attached  to  the  French  am- 
bulance." 

The  German  grunted  in  contemptuous  disapproval  of  all 
Frenchmen,  and  all  French  institutions.  The  Englishman 
seized  his  first  oppoi'tunity  of  addressing  himself  to  Mercy 
«nce  more. 

"  Is  the  lady  a  countrywoman  of  ours  ?"  he  asked,  gently. 

Mercy  considered  before  she  answered  him.     With  the  ob 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  41 

ject  she  had  in  view,  there  might  be  serious  reasons  for  speak- 
ing with  extreme  caution  when  she  spoke  of  Grace. 

"  I  believe  so,"  she  said.  "  We  met  here  by  accident.  I 
know  nothing  of  her." 

"  Not  even  her  name?"  inquired  the  German  surgeon. 

Mercy's  resolution  was  hardly  equal  yet  to  giving  her  own 
name  openly  as  the  name  of  Grace.  She  took  refuge  in  flat 
denial. 

"  Not  even  her  name,"  she  repeated,  obstinately. 

The  old  man  stared  at  her  more  rudely  than  ever,  consid- 
ered with  himself,  and  took  the  candle  from  the  table.  He 
hobbled  back  to  the  bed,  and  examined  the  figure  laid  on  it 
in  silence.  The  Englishman  continued  the  conversation,  no 
longer  concealing  the  interest  that  he  felt  in  the  beautiful 
woman  who  stood  before  him. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said, "  you  are  very  young  to  be  alone  in 
war-time  in  such  a  place  as  this." 

The  sudden  outbreak  of  a  disturbance  in  the  kitchen  re- 
lieved Mercy  from  any  immediate  necessity  for  answering  him. 
She  heard  the  voices  of  the  wounded  men  raised  in  feeble 
remonstrance,  and  the  harsh  command  of  the  foreign  officers 
bidding  them  be  silent.  The  generous  instincts  of  the  wom- 
an instantly  prevailed  over  every  personal  consideration  im- 
posed on  her  by  the  position  which  she  had  assumed.  Reckless 
whether  she  betrayed  herself  or  not  as  nurse  in  the  French 
ambulance,  she  instantly  drew  aside  the  canvas  to  enter  the 
kitchen.  A  German  sentinel  barred  the  way  to  her,  and  an- 
nounced, in  his  own  language,  that  no  strangers  were  admit- 
ted. The  Englishman  politely  interposing,  asked  if  she  had 
any  special  object  in  wishing  to  enter  the  room. 

"  The  poor  Frenchmen !"  she  said,  earnestly,  her  heart  up- 
braiding her  for  having  forgotten  them.  "  The  poor  wound- 
ed Frenchmen !" 

The  German  surgeon  advanced  from  the  bedside,  and  took 
the  matter  up  before  the  Englishman  could  say  a  word  more. 


42  THE    NEW   MAGDALEK. 

"  You  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  wounded  Frenchmen," 
he  croaked,  in  the  harshest  notes  of  his  voice.  "  The  wound- 
ed Frenchmen  are  my  business,  and  not  yours.  They  are  our 
prisoners,  and  they  are  being  moved  to  our  ambulance.  I  am 
Ignatius  Wetzel,  chief  of  the  medical  staff — and  I  tell  you 
this.  Hold  your  tongue."  He  turned  to  the  sentinel,  and 
added  in  German, "  Draw  the  curtain  again  ;  and  if  the  wom- 
an persists,  put  her  back  into  this  room  with  your  own  hand." 

Mercy  attempted  to  remonstrate.  The  Englishman  respect- 
fully took  her  arm,  and  drew  her  out  of  the  sentinel's  reach. 

"It  is  useless  to  resist,"  he  said.  "The  German  discipline 
never  gives  way.  There  is  not  the  least  need  to  be  uneasy 
about  the  Frenchmen.  The  ambulance  under  Surgeon  Wetz- 
el is  admirably  administered.  I  answer  for  it,  the  men  will 
be  well  treated."  He  saw  the  tears  in  her  eyes  as  he  spoke ; 
his  admiration  for  her  rose  higher  and  higher.  "  Kind  as  well 
as  beautiful,"  he  thought.  "  What  a  charming  creature !" 

"  Well !"  said  Ignatius  Wetzel,  eying  Mercy  sternly  through 
his  spectacles.  "  Are  you  satisfied  ?  And  will  you  hold  your 
tongue  ?" 

She  yielded :  it  was  plainly  useless  to  resist.  But  for  the 
surgeon's  resistance,  her  devotion  to  the  wounded  men  might 
have  stopped  her  on  the  downward  way  that  she  was  going. 
If  she  could  only  have  been  absorbed  again,  mind  and  body, 
in  her  good  work  as  a  nurse,  the  temptation  might  even  yet 
have  found  her  strong  enough  to  resist  it.  The  fatal  severi- 
ty of  the  German  discipline  had  snapped  asunder  the  last  tie" 
that  bound  her  to  her  better  self.  Her  face  hardened  as  she 
walked  away  proudly  from  Surgeon  Wetzel,  and  took  a  chair. 

The  Englishman  followed  her,  and  reverted  to  the  question 
of  her  present  situation  in  the  cottage. 

"  Don't  suppose  that  I  want  to  alarm  you,"  he  said.  "  There 
is,  I  repeat,  no  need  to  be  anxious  about  the  Frenchmen,  but 
there  is  serious  reason  for  anxiety  on  your  own  account.  The 
action  will  be  renewed  round  this  village  by  daylight ;  you 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  43 

ought  really  to  be  in  a  place  of  safety.  I  am  an  officer  in  the 
English  army — my  name  is  Horace  Holmcroft.  I  shall  be  de- 
lighted to  be  of  use  to  you,  and  I  can  be  of  use,  if  you  will 
let  me.  May  I  ask  if  you  are  traveling  ?" 

Mercy  gathered  the  cloak  which  concealed  her  nurse's 
dress  more  closely  round  her,  and  committed  herself  silently 
to  her  first  overt  act  of  deception.  She  bowed  her  head  in 
the  affirmative. 

"  Are  you  on  your  way  to  England  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"In  that  case  I  can  pass  you  through  the  German  lines, 
and  forward  you  at  once  on  your  journey." 

Mercy  looked  at  him  in  unconcealed  surprise.  His  strong- 
ly felt  interest  in  her  was  restrained  within  the  strictest  limits 
of  good-breeding:  he  was  unmistakably  a  gentleman.  Did 
he  really  mean  what  he  had  just  said  ? 

"  You  can  pass  me  through  the  German  lines  ?"  she  repeat- 
ed. "  You  must  possess  extraordinary  influence,  sir,  to  be 
able  to  do  that," 

Mr.  Horace  Holmcroft  smiled. 

"I  possess  the  influence  that  no  one  can  resist,"  he  an- 
swered—" the  influence  of  the  Press.  I  am  serving  here  as 
war  correspondent  of  one  of  our  great  English  newspapers. 
If  I  ask  him,  the  commanding  officer  will  grant  you  a  pass. 
He  is  close  to  this  cottage.  What  do  you  say  ?" 

She  summoned  her  resolution — not  without  difficulty,  even 
now — and  took  him  at  his  word. 

"  I  gratefully  accept  your  offer,  sir." 

He  advanced  a  step  toward  the  kitchen,  and  stopped. 

"It  may  be  well  to  make  the  application  as  privately  as 
possible,"  he  said.  "  I  shall  be  questioned  if  I  pass  through 
that  room.  Is  there  no  other  way  out  of  the  cottage  ?" 

Mercy  showed  him  the  door  leading  into  the  yard.  He 
bowed — and  left  her. 

She  looked  furtively  toward  the  German  surgeon.     Igna- 


44  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

tins  Wetzel  was  still  at  the  bed,  bending  over  the  body,  and 
apparently  absorbed  in  examining  the  wound  which  had  been 
inflicted  by  the  shell.  Mercy's  instinctive  aversion  to  the  old 
man  increased  tenfold,  now  that  she  was  left  alone  with  him. 
She  withdrew  uneasily  to  the  window,  and  looked  out  at  the 
moonlight. 

Had  she  committed  herself  to  the  fraud?  Hardly,  yet. 
She  had  committed  herself  to  returning  to  England — nothing 
more.  There  was  no  necessity,  thus  far,  which  forced  her 
to  present  herself  at  Mablethorpe  House,  in  Grace's  place. 
There  was  still  time  to  reconsider  her  resolution — still  time  to 
write  the  account  of  the  accident,  as  she  had  proposed,  and 
to  send  it  with  the  lettei'-case  to  Lady  Janet  Roy.  Suppose 
she  finally  decided  on  taking  this  course,  what  was  to  become 
of  her  when  she  found  herself  in  England  again  ?  There  was 
no  alternative  open  but  to  apply  once  more  to  her  friend  the 
matron.  There  was  nothing  for  her  to  do  but  to  return  to 
the  Refuge ! 

The  Refuge  !  The  matron  !  What  past  association  with 
these  two  was  now  presenting  itself  uninvited,  and  taking  the 
foremost  place  in  her  mind  ?  Of  whom  was  she  now  think- 
ing, in  that  strange  place,  and  at  that  crisis  in  her  life  ?  Of 
the  man  whose  words  had  found  their  way  to  her  heart,  whose 
influence  had  strengthened  and  comforted  her,  in  the  chapel 
of  the  Refuge.  One  of  the  finest  passages  in  his  sermon  had 
been  especially  devoted  by  Julian  Gray  to  warning  the  con- 
gregation whom  he  addressed  against  the  degrading  influ- 
ences of  falsehood  and  deceit.  The  terms  in  which  he  had 
appealed  to  the  miserable  women  round  him — terms  of  sym- 
pathy and  encouragement  never  addressed  to  them  before — 
came  back  to  Mercy  Merrick  as  if  she  had  heard  them  an 
hour  since.  She  turned  deadly  pale  as  they  now  pleaded 
with  her  once  more.  "  Oh  !"  she  whispered  to  herself,  as  she 
thought  of  what  she  had  proposed  and  planned,  "  what  have 
I  done  ?  what  have  I  done  ?" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  45 

She  turned  from  the  window  with  some  vague  idea  in  her 
mind  of  following  Mr.  Ilolmcroft  and  calling  him  back.  As 
she  faced  the  bed  again  she  also  confronted  Ignatius  Wetzel. 
He  was  just  stepping  forward  to  speak  to  her,  with  a  white 
handkerchief — the  handkerchief  which  she  had  lent  to  Grace 
— held  up  in  his  hand. 

"  I  have  found  this  in  her  pocket,"  he  said.  "  Here  is  her 
name  written  on  it.  She  must  be  a  countrywoman  of  yours." 
He  read  the  letters  marked  on  the  handkerchief  with  some 
difficulty.  "  Her  name  is — Mercy  Merrick." 

His  lips  had  said  it — not  hers !  He  had  given  her  the 
name. 

"  *  Mercy  Merrick '  is  an  English  name  ?"  pursued  Ignatius 
Wetzel,  with  his  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  her.  "  Is  it  not  so  ?" 

The  hold  on  her  mind  of  the  past  association  with  Julian 
Gray  began  to  relax.  One  present  and  pressing  question 
now  possessed  itself  of  the  foremost  place  in  her  thoughts. 
Should  she  correct  the  error  into  which  the  German  had  fall- 
en ?  The  time  had  come — to  speak,  and  assert  her  own  iden- 
tity ;  or  to  be  silent,  and  commit  herself  to  the  fraud. 

Horace  Ilolmcroft  entered  the  room  again  at  the  moment 
when  Surgeon  WetzePs  staring  eyes  were  still  fastened  on 
her,  waiting  for  her  reply. 

"  I  have  not  overrated  my  interest,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
little  slip  of  paper  in  his  hand.  "Here  is  the  pass.  Have 
you  got  pen  and  ink?  I  must  fill  up  the  form." 

Mercy  pointed  to  the  writing  materials  on  the  table. 
Horace  seated  himself,  and  dipped  the  pen  in  the  ink. 

"  Pray  don't  think  that  I  wish  to  intrude  myself  into  your 
affairs,"  he  said.  "  I  am  obliged  to  ask  you  one  or  two  plain 
questions.  What  is  your  name  ?" 

A  sudden  trembling  seized  her.  She  supported  herself 
against  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Her  whole  future  existence  de- 
pended on  her  answer.  She  was  incapable  of  uttering  a 
word. 


46  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Ignatius  Wetzel  stood  her  friend  for  once.  His  croaking 
voice  filled  the  empty  gap  of  silence  exactly  at  the  right  time. 
He  doggedly  held  the  handkerchief  under  her  eyes.  He  ob- 
stinately repeated,  "  Mercy  Merrick  is  an  English  name.  Is 
it  not  so  ?" 

Horace  Holmcroft  looked  up  from  the  table.  "Mercy 
Merrick  ?"  he  said.  "  Who  is  Mercy  Merrick  ?" 

Surgeon  Wetzel  pointed  to  the  corpse  on  the  bed. 

"I  have  found  the  name  on  the  handkerchief,"  he  said. 
"This  lady, it  seems, had  not  curiosity  enough  to  look  for  the 
name  of  her  own  countrywoman."  He  made  that  mocking 
allusion  to  Mercy  with  a  tone  which  was  almost  a  tone  of  sus- 
picion, and  a  look  which  was  almost  a  look  of  contempt.  Her 
quick  temper  instantly  resented  the  discourtesy  of  which  she 
had  been  made  the  object.  The  irritation  of  the  moment — so 
often  do  the  most  trifling  motives  determine  the  most  serious 
human  actions — decided  her  on  the  course  that  she  should 
pursue.  She  turned  her  back  scornfully  on  the  rude  old  man, 
and  left  him  in  the  delusion  that  he  had  discovered  the  dead 
woman's  name. 

Horace  returned  to  the  business  of  filling  up  the  form. 

"Pardon  me  for  pressing  the  question,"  he  said.  "You 
know  what  German  discipline  is  by  this  time.  What  is  your 
name  ?" 

She  answered  him  recklessly,  defiantly,  without  fairly  real- 
izing what  she  was  doing  until  it  was  done. 

"  Grace  Roseberry,"  she  said. 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  her  mouth  before  she  would 
have  given  every  thing  she  possessed  in  the  world  to  recall 
them. 

"  Miss  ?"  asked  Horace,  smiling. 

She  could  only  answer  him  by  bowing  her  head. 

He  wrote,  "Miss  Grace  Roseberry" — reflected  for  a  mo- 
ment— and  then  added,  interrogatively,  "Returning  to  her 
friends  in  England?"  Her  friends  in  England?  Mercy's 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  47 

heart  swelled :  she  silently  replied  by  another  sign.  He 
wrote  the  words  after  the  name,  and  shook  the  sand-box  over 
the  wet  ink.  "  That  will  be  enough,"  he  said,  rising  and  pre- 
senting the  pass  to  Mercy;  "I  will  see  you  through  the  lines 
myself,  and  arrange  for  your  being  sent  on  by  the  railway. 
Where  is  your  luggage  ?" 

Mercy  pointed  toward  the  front  door  of  the  building.  "  In 
a  shed  outside  the  cottage,"  she  answered.  "  It  is  not  much  ; 
I  can  do  every  thing  for  myself  if  the  sentinel  will  let  me  pass 
through  the  kitchen." 

Horace  pointed  to  the  paper  in  her  hand.  "  You  can  go 
where  you  like  now,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  wait  for  you  here  or 
outside  ?  ' 

Mercy  glanced  distrustfully  at  Ignatius  Wetzel.  He  was 
again  absorbed  in  his  endless  examination  of  the  body  on  the 
bed.  If  she  left  him  alone  with  Mr.  Holmcroft,  there  was 
no  knowing  what  the  hateful  old  man  might  not  say  of  her. 
She  answered, "  Wait  for  me  outside,  if  you  please." 

The  sentinel  drew  back  with  a  military  salute  at  the  sight 
of  the  pass.  All  the  French  prisoners  had  been  removed ; 
there  were  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  Germans  in  the  kitch- 
en, and  the  greater  part  of  them  were  asleep.  Mercy  took 
Grace  Roseberry's  clothes  from  the  corner  in  which  they  had 
been  left  to  dry,  and  made  for  the  shed — a  rough  structure  of 
wood,  built  out  from  the  cottage  wall.  At  the  front  door  she. 
encountered  a  second  sentinel,  and  showed  her  pass  for  the 
second  time.  She  spoke  to  this  man,  asking  him  if  he  under- 
stood French.  He  answered  that  he  understood  a  little. 
Mercy  gave  him  a  piece  of  money,  and  said, "  I  am  going  to 
pack  up  my  luggage  in  the  shed.  Be  kind  enough  to  see  that 
nobody  disturbs  me."  The  sentinel  saluted,  in  token  that  he  un- 
derstood. Mercy  disappeared  in  the  dark  interior  of  the  shed. 

Left  alone  with  Surgeon  Wetzel,  Horace  noticed  the  strange 
old  man  still  bending  intently  over  the  English  lady  who  had 

been  killed  by  the  shell. 

3 


48  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"Any  thing  remarkable,"  he  asked,  "in  the  manner  of  that 
poor  creature's  death  ?" 

"  Nothing  to  put  in  a  newspaper,"  retorted  the  cynic,  pur- 
suing his  investigations  as  attentively  as  ever. 

"  Interesting  to  a  doctor — eh  ?"  said  Horace. 

"  Yes.     Interesting  to  a  doctor,"  was  the  gruff  reply. 

Horace  good-humoredly  accepted  the  hint  implied  in  those 
words.  He  quitted  the  room  by  the  door  leading  into  the 
yard,  and  waited  for  the  charming  Englishwoman,  as  he  had 
been  instructed,  outside  the  cottage. 

Left  by  himself,  Ignatius  Wetzel,  after  a  first  cautious  look 
all  round  him,  opened  the  upper  part  of  Grace's  dress,  and 
laid  his  left  hand  on  her  heart.  Taking  a  little  steel  instru- 
ment from  his  waistcoat  pocket  with  the  other  hand,  he  ap- 
plied it  carefully  to  the  wound,  raised  a  morsel  of  the  broken 
and  depressed  bone  of  the  skull,  and  waited  for  the  result. 
"Aha  !"he  cried,  addressing  with  a  terrible  gayety  the  sense- 
less creature  under  his  hands.  "The  Frenchman  says  you 
are  dead,  my  dear — does  he  ?  The  Frenchman  is  a  Quack  ! 
The  Frenchman  is  an  Ass !"  He  lifted  his  head,  and  called 
into  the  kitchen.  "  Max  !"  A  sleepy  young  German,  cover- 
ed with  a  dresser's  apron  from  his  chin  to  his  feet,  drew  the 
curtain,  and  waited  for  his  instructions.  "  Bring  me  my  black 
bag,"  said  Ignatius  Wetzel.  Having  given  that  order,  he 
rubbed  his  hands  cheerfully,  and  shook  himself  like  a  dog. 
"  Now  I  am  quite  happy,"  croaked  the  terrible  old  man,  with 
his  fiei'ce  eyes  leering  sidelong  at  the  bed.  "  My  dear,  dead 
Englishwoman,  I -would  not  have  missed  this  meeting  with 
you  for  all  the  money  I  have  in  the  world.  Ha !  you  infernal 
French  Quack,  you  call  it  death,  do  you  ?  I  call  it  suspended 
animation  from  pressure  on  the  brain  !" 

Max  appeared  with  the  black  bag. 

Ignatius  Wetzel  selected  two  fearful  instruments,  bright 
and  new,  and  hugged  them  to  his  bosom.  "My  little  boys," 
he  said,  tenderly,  as  if  they  were  his  children ;  "  my  blessed 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  49 

little  boys,  come  to  work !"  He  turned  to  the  assistant. 
"  DC  you  remember  the  battle  of  Solferino,  Max — and  the 
Austrian  soldier  I  operated  on  for  a  wound  on  the  head  ?" 

The  assistant's  sleepy  eyes  opened  wide ;  he  was  evidently 
interested.  "  I  remember,"  he  said.  "  I  held  the  candle." 

The  master  led  the  way  to  the  bed. 

"  I  am  noj,  satisfied  with  the  result  of  that  operation  at  Sol- 
ferino," he  said  ;  "  I  have  wanted  to  try  again  ever  since.  It's 
true  that  I  saved  the  man's  life,  but  I  failed  to  give  him  back 
his  reason  along  with  it.  It  might  have  been  something  wrong 
in  the  operation,  or  it  might  have  been  something  wrong  in 
the  man.  Whichever  it  was,  he  will  live  and  die  mad.  Now 
look  here,  my  little  Max,  at  this  dear  young  lady  on  the  bed. 
She  gives  me  just  what  I  wanted  ;  here  is  the  case  at  Solfe- 
rino once  more.  You  shall  hold  the  candle  again,  my  good 
boy  ;  stand  there,  and  look  with  all  your  eyes.  I  am  going  to 
try  if  I  can  save  the  life  and  the  reason  too  this  time." 

He  tucked  up  the  cuffs  of  his  coat  and  began  the  operation. 
As  his  fearful  instruments  touched  Grace's  head,  the  voice 
of  the  sentinel  at  the  nearest  outpost  was  heard,  giving  the 
word  in  German  which  permitted  Mercy  to  take  the  first  step 
on  her  journey  to  England : 

"  Pass  the  English  lady  !" 

The  operation  proceeded.  The  voice  of  the  sentinel  at  the 
next  post  was  heard  more  faintly,  in  its  turn : 

"  Pass  the  English  lady  !" 

The  operation  ended.  Ignatius  Wetzel  held  up  his  hand 
for  silence  and  put  his  ear  close  to  the  patient's  mouth. 

The  first  trembling  breath  of  returning  life  fluttered  over 
Grace  Roseberry's  lips,  and  touched  the  old  man's  wrinkled 
cheek.  "  Aha !"  he  cried.  "  Good  girl !  you  breathe — you 
live  !"  As  he  spoke,  the  voice  of  the  sentinel  at  the  final  limit 
of  the  German  lines  (barely  audible  in  the  distance)  gave  the 
word  for  the  last  time : 

"  Pass  the  English  lady !" 


fiO  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 


SECOND   SCENE. 

fllablelliorjie  ijotisc. 

PREAMBLE. 

place  is  England. 

The  time  is  winter,  in  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and  sev- 
enty. 

The  persons  are,  Julian  Gray,  Horace  Holmcroft,  Lady  Ja- 
net Roy,  Grace  Roseberry,  and  Mercy  Me  nick. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LADY  JANET'S  COMPANION. 

IT  is  a  glorious  winter's  day.  The  sky  is  clear,  the  frost  is 
hard,  the  ice  bears  for  skating. 

The  dining-room  of  the  ancient  mansion  called  Mablethorpe 
House,  situated  in  the  London  suburb  of  Kensington,  is  fa- 
mous among  artists  and  other  persons  of  taste  for  the  carved 
wood-work,  of  Italian  origin,  which  covers  the  walls  on  three 
sides.  On  the  fourth  side  the  march  of  modern  improvement 
has  broken  in,  and  has  varied  and  brightened  the  scene  by 
means  of  a  conservatory,  forming  an  entrance  to  the  room 
through  a  winter-garden  of  rare  plants  and  flowers.  On  your 
right  hand,  as  you  stand  fronting  the  conservatory,  the  mo- 
notony of  the  paneled  wall  is  relieved  by  a  quaintly  patterned 
door  of  old  inlaid  wood,  leading  into  the  library,  and  thence, 
across  the  great  hall,  to  the  other  reception-rooms  of  the 


T11E   NEW   AIAGDALEIT.  51 

..ouse.  A  corresponding  door  on  the  left  hand  gives  access 
to  the  billiard-room,  to  the  smoking-room  next  to  it,  and  to  a 
smaller  hall  commanding  one  of  the  secondary  entrances  to 
ihe  building.  On  the  left  side  also  is  the  ample  fire-place, 
surmounted  by  its  marble  mantel-piece,  carved  in  the  profuse- 
ly and  confusedly  ornate  style  of  eighty  years  since.  To  the 
educated  eye  the  dining-room,  with  its  modern  furniture  and 
conservatory,  us  ancient  walls  and  doors,  and  its  lofty  mantel- 
piece (neither  very  old  nor  very  new),  presents  a  startling,  al- 
most a  revolutionary,  mixture  of  the  decorative  workmanship 
of  widely  differing  schools.  To  the  ignorant  eye  the  one  re- 
sult produced  is  an  impression  of  perfect  luxury  and  comfort, 
united  in  the  friendliest  combination,  and  developed  on  the 
largest  scale. 

The  clock  has  just  struck  two.  The  table  is  spread  for 
luncheon. 

The  persons  seated  at  the  table  are  three  in  number.  First, 
Lady  Janet  Roy.  Second,  a  young  lady  who  is  her  reader 
and  companion.  Third,  a  guest  staying  in  the  house,  who 
has  already  appeared  in  these  pages  under  the  name  of  Hor- 
ace Holmcroft — attached  to  the  German  army  as  war  corre- 
spondent of  an  English  newspaper. 

Lady  Janet  Roy  needs  but  little  introduction.  Every  body 
with  the  slightest  pretension  to  experience  in  London  society 
knows  Lady  Janet  Roy. 

Who  has  not  heard  of  her  old  lace  and  her  priceless  rubies? 
Who  has  not  admired  her  commanding  figure,  her  beautifully 
dressed  white  hair,  her  wonderful  black  eyes,  which  still  pre- 
serve their  youthful  brightness,  after  first  opening  on  the 
world  seventy  years  since?  Who  has  not  felt  the  charm  of 
her  frank,  easily  flowing  talk,  her  inexhaustible  spirits,  her 
good  -humored,  gracious  sociability  of  manner?  Where  is 
tin1  modern  hermit  who  is  not  familiarly  acquainted,  by  hear- 
say at  least,  with  the  fantastic  novelty  and  humor  of  her  opin- 
ions ;  with  her  generous  encouragement  of  rising  merit  of 


52  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

any  sort,  in  all  ranks,  high  or  low ;  with  her  charities,  which 
know  no  distinction  between  abroad  and  at  home ;  with  her 
large  indulgence,  which  no  ingratitude  can  discourage,  and  no 
servility  pervert  ?  Every  body  has  heard  of  the  popular  old 
lady  —  the  childish  widow  of  a  long-forgotten  lord.  Every 
body  knows  Lady  Janet  Roy. 

But  who  knows  the  handsome  young  woman  sitting  on  her 
right  hand,  playing  with  her  luncheon  instead  of  eating  it? 
Nobody  really  knows  her. 

She  is  prettily  dressed  in  gray  poplin,  trimmed  with  gray 
velvet,  and  set  off  by  a  ribbon  of  deep  red  tied  in  a  bow  at 
the  throat.  She  is  nearly  as  tall  as  Lady  Janet  herself,  and 
possesses  a  grace  and  beauty  of  figure  not  always  seen  in 
women  who  rise  above  the  medium  height.  Judging  by  a 
certain  innate  grandeur  in  the  carriage  of  her  head  and  in  the 
expression  of  her  large  melancholy  gray  eyes,  believers  in 
blood  and  breeding  will  be  apt  to  guess  that  this  is  another 
noble  lady.  Alas !  she  is  nothing  but  Lady  Janet's  compan- 
ion and  reader.  Her  head,  crowned  with  its  lovely  light 
brown  hair,  bends  with  a  gentle  respect  when  Lady  Janet 
speaks.  Her  fine  firm  hand  is  easily  and  incessantly  watchful 
to  supply  Lady  Janet's  slightest  wants.  The  old  lady — af- 
fectionately familiar  with  her — speaks  to  her  as  she  might 
speak  to  an  adopted  child.  But  the  gratitude  of  the  beauti- 
ful companion  has  always  the  same  restraint  in  its  acknowl- 
edgment of  kindness ;  the  smile  of  the  beautiful  companion 
has  always  the  same  underlying  sadness  when  it  responds  to 
Lady  Janet's  hearty  laugh.  Is  there  something  wrong  here, 
under  the  surface  ?  Is  she  suffering  in  mind,  or  suffering  in 
body  ?  What  is  the  matter  with  her  ? 

The  matter  with  her  is  secret  remorse.  This  delicate  and 
beautiful  creature  pines  under  the  slow  torment  of  constant 
self-reproach. 

To  the  mistress  of  the  house,  and  to  all  who  inhabit  it  or 
enter  it,  she  is  known  as  Grace  Roseberry,  the  orphan  rela- 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  53 

tive  by  marriage  of  Lady  Janet  Roy.  To  herself  alone  she 
is  known  as  the  outcast  of  the  London  streets ;  the  inmate 
of  the  London  Refuge ;  the  lost  woman  who  has  stolen  her 
way  back  —  after  vainly  trying  to  fight  her  way  back  —  to 
Home  and  Name.  There  she  sits  in  the  grim  shadow  of  her 
own  terrible  secret,  disguised  in  another  person's  identity, 
and  established  in  another  person's  place.  Mercy  Merrick 
had  only  to  dare,  and  to  become  Grace  Roseberry  if  she 
pleased.  She  has  dared,  and  she  has  been  Grace  Roseberry 
for  nearly  four  months  past. 

At  this  moment,  while  Lady  Janet  is  talking  to  Horace 
Holrncroft,  something  that  has  passed  between  them  has  set 
her  thinking  of  the  day  when  she  took  the  first  fatal  step 
which  committed  her  to  the  fraud. 

How  rnarvelously  easy  of  accomplishment  the  act  of  per- 
sonation had  been  !  At  first  sight  Lady  Janet  had  yielded 
to  the  fascination  of  the  noble  and  interesting  face.  No  need 
to  present  the  stolen  letter ;  no  need  to  repeat  the  ready- 
made  story.  The  old  lady  had  put  the  letter  aside  unopened, 
and  had  stopped  the  story  at  the  first  words.  "  Your  face  is 
your  introduction,  my  dear ;  your  father  can  say  nothing  for 
you  which  you  have  not  already  said  for  yourself."  There 
was  the  welcome  which  established  her  firmly  in  her  false 
identity  at  the  outset.  Thanks  to  her  own  experience,  and 
thanks  to  the  "  Journal "  of  events  at  Rome,  questions  about 
her  life  in  Canada  and  questions  about  Colonel  Roseberry's 
illness  found  her  ready  with  answers  which  (even  if  suspi- 
cion had  existed)  would  have  disarmed  suspicion  on  the  spot. 
While  the  true  Grace  was  slowly  and  painfully  winning  her 
way  back  to  life  on  her  bed  in  a  German  hospital,  the  false 
Grace  was  presented  to  Lady  Janet's  friends  as  the  relative 
by  marriage  of  the  mistress  of  Mablethorpe  House.  From 
that  time  forward  nothing  had  happened  to  rouse  in  her  the 
faintest  suspicion  that  Grace  Roseberry  was  other  than  a 
dead-and-buried  woman.  So  far  as  she  now  knew — so  far  as 


54  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

any  one  now  knew  —  she  might  live  out  her  life  in  perfect 
security  (if  her  conscience  would  let  her),  respected,  distin- 
guished, and  beloved,  in  the  position  which  she  had  usurped. 

She  rose  abruptly  from  the  table.  The  effort  of  her  life 
was  to  shake  herself  free  of  the  remembrances  which  haunted 
her  perpetually  as  they  were  haunting  her  now.  Her  mem- 
ory was  her  worst  enemy ;  her  one  refuge  from  it  was  in 
change  of  occupation  and  change  of  scene. 

"  May  I  go  into  the  conservatory,  Lady  Janet  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear." 

She  bent  her  head  to  her  protectress,  looked  for  a  moment 
with  a  steady,  compassionate  attention  at  Horace  Holmcroft, 
and,  slowly  crossing  the  room,  entered  the  winter  -  garden. 
The  eyes  of  Horace  followed  her,  as  long  as  she  was  in  view, 
with  a  curious  contradictory  expression  of  admiration  and 
disapproval.  When  she  had  passed  out  of  sight  the  admira- 
tion vanished,  but  the  disapproval  remained.  The  face  of  the 
young  man  contracted  into  a  frown :  he  sat  silent,  with  his 
fork  in  his  hand,  playing  absently  with  the  fragments  on  his 
plate. 

"  Take  some  French  pie,  Horace,"  said  Lady  Janet. 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  Some  more  chicken,  then  ?" 

"  No  more  chicken." 

"  Will  nothing  tempt  you  ?" 

"  I  will  take  some  more  wine,  if  you  will  allow  me." 

He  filled  his  glass  (for  the  fifth  or  sixth  time)  with  claret, 
and  emptied  it  sullenly  at  a  draught.  Lady  Janet's  bright 
eyes  watched  him  with  sardonic  attention ;  Lady  Janet's 
ready  tongue  spoke  out  as  freely  as  usual  what  was  passing 
in  her  mind  at  the  time. 

"  The  air  of  Kensington  doesn't  seem  to  suit  you,  my  young 
friend,"  she  said.  "  The  longer  you  have  been  my  guest,  the 
ofteuer  you  fill  your  glass  and  empty  your  cigar-case.  Those 


THE    NKW    MAGDALEN.  55 

are  bad  signs  in  a  young  man.  When  you  first  came  here 
you  arrived  invalided  by  a  wound.  In  your  place,  I  should 
not  have  exposed  myself  to  be  shot,  with  no  other  object  in 
view  than  describing  a  battle  in  a  newspaper.  I  suppose 
tastes  differ.  Are  you  ill  ?  Does  your  wound  still  plague 
you  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"Are  you  out  of  spirits?" 

Horace  Holrncroft  dropped  his  fork,  rested  his  elbows  on 
the  table,  and  answered,  "Awfully." 

Even  Lady  Janet's  large  toleration  had  its  limits.  It  em- 
braced every  human  offense  except  a  breach  of  good  manners. 
She  snatched  up  the  nearest  weapon  of  correction  at  hand — a 
table-spoon — and  rapped  her  young  friend  smartly  with  it  on 
the  arm  that  was  nearest  to  her. 

"  My  table  is  not  the  club  table,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  Hold 
up  your  head.  Don't  look  at  your  fork — look  at  me.  I  al- 
low nobody  to  be  out  of  spirits  in  My  house.  I  consider  it 
to  be  a  reflection  on  Me.  If  our  quiet  life  here  doesn't  suit 
you,  say  so  plainly,  and  find  something  else  to  do.  There  is 
employment  to  be  had,  I  suppose — if  you  choose  to  apply  for 
it  ?  You  needn't  smile.  I  don't  want  to  see  your  teeth — I 
want  an  answer," 

Horace  admitted,  with  all  needful  gravity,  that  there  was 
employment  to  be  had.  The  war  between  France  and  Ger- 
many, he  remarked,  was  still  going  on:  the  newspaper  had 
offered  to^mploy  him  again  in  the  capacity  of  correspondent. 

"Don't  speak  of  the  newspapers  and  the  war!"  cried  Lady 
Janet,  with  a  sudden  explosion  of  anger,  which  was  genuine 
anger  this  time.  "I  detest  the  newspapers  !  I  won't  allow 
the  newspapers  to  enter  this  house.  I  lay  the  whole  blame  of 
the  blood  shed  between  France  and  Germany  at  their  door." 

Horace's  eyes  opened  wide  in  ama/ement.  The  old  lady 
was  evidently  in  earnest.  "  What  can  you  possibly  mean?" 
he  asked.  "Are  the  newspapers  responsible  for  the  war?" 


56  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"  Entirely  responsible,"  answered  Lady  Janet.  "  Why, 
you  don't  understand  the  age  you  live  in !  Does  any  body 
do  any  thing  nowadays  (fighting  included)  without  wishing 
to  see  it  in  the  newspapers?  I  subscribe  to  a  charity;  thou 
art  presented  with  a  testimonial ;  he  preaches  a  sermon  ;  we 
suffer  a  grievance  ;  you  make  a  discovery  ;  they  go  to  church 
and  get  married.  And  I,  thou,  he ;  we,  you,  they,  all  want 
one  and  the  same  thing — we  want  to  see  it  in  the  papers. 
Are  kings,  soldiers,  and  diplomatists  exceptions  to  the  gen- 
eral rule  of  humanity  ?  Not  they !  I  tell  you  seriously,  it 
the  newspapers  of  Europe  had  one  and  all  decided  not  to 
take  the  smallest  notice  in  print  of  the  war  between  France 
and  Germany,  it  is  my  firm  conviction  the  war  would  have 
come  to  an  end  for  want  of  encouragement  long  since.  Let 
the  pen  cease  to  advertise  the  sword,  and  I,  for  one,  can  see 
the  result.  No  report — no  fighting." 

"Your  views  have  the  merit  of  perfect  novelty,  ma'am," 
said  Horace.  "Would  you  object  to  see  them  in  the  news- 
papers ?" 

Lady  Janet  worsted  her  young  friend  with  his  own  weap- 
ons. 

"  Don't  I  live  in  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  ?" 
she  asked.  "  In  the  newspapers,  did  you  say  ?  In  large  type, 
Horace,  if  you  love  me  !" 

Horace  changed  the  subject. 

"  You  blame  rne  for  being  out  of  spirits,"  he  said  ;  "  and 
you  seem  to  think  it  is  because  I  am  tired  of  my  pleasant  life 
at  Mablethorpe  House.  I  am  not  in  the  least  tired,  Lady 
Janet."  He  looked  toward  the  conservatory :  the  frown 
showed  itself  on  his  face  once  more.  "  The  truth  is,"  he  re- 
sumed, "  I  am  not  satisfied  with  Grace  Roseberry." 

"  What  has  Grace  done  ?" 

"  She  persists  in  prolonging  our  engagement.  Nothing 
will  persuade  her  to  fix  the  day  for  our  marriage." 

It  was  true !     Mercy  had  been  mad  enough  to  listen  to 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  5< 

him,  ;ind  to  love  him.  But  Mercy  was  not  vile  enough  to 
marry  him  under  her  false  character,  and  in  her  false  name. 
Between  three  and  four  months  had  elapsed  since  Horace  had 
been  sent  home  from  the  war,  wounded,  and  had  found  the 
beautiful  Englishwoman  whom  he  had  befriended  in  France 
established  at  Mablethorpe  House.  Invited  to  become  Lady 
Janet's  guest  (he  had  passed  his  holidays  as  a  school-boy  un- 
der Lady  Janet's  roof) — free  to  spend  the  idle  time  of  his 
convalescence  from  morning  to  night  in  Mercy's  society — the 
impression  originally  produced  on  him  in  a  French  cottage 
soon  strengthened  into  love.  Before  the  month  was  out  Hor- 
ace had  declared  himself,  and  had  discovered  that  he  spoke 
to  willing  ears.  From  that  moment  it  was  only  a  question 
of  persisting  long  enough  in  the  resolution  to  gain  his  point. 
The  marriage  engagement  was  ratified — most  reluctantly  on 
the  lady's  side — and  there  the  further  progress  of  Hor- 
ace Holmcroft's  suit  came  to  an  end.  Try  as  he  might,  he 
failed  to  persuade  his  betrothed  wife  to  fix  the  day  for  the 
marriage.  There  were  no  obstacles  in  her  way.  She  had  no 
near  relations  of  her  own  to  consult.  As  a  connection  of 
Lady  Janet's  by  marriage,  Horace's  mother  and  sisters  were 
ready  to  receive  her  with  all  the  honors  due  to  a  new  mem- 
ber of  the  family.  No  pecuniary  considerations  made  it  nec- 
essary, in  this  case,  to  wait  for  a  favorable  time,  Horace  was 
an  only  son ;  and  he  had  succeeded  to  his  father's  estate  with 
an  ample  income  to  support  it.  On  both  sides  alike  then 
was  absolutely  nothing  to  prevent  the  two  young  peopk 
from  being  married  as  soon  as  the  settlements  could  be  drawn. 
And  yet,  to  all  appearance,  here  was  a  long  engagement  in 
prospect,  with  no  better  reason  than  the  lady's  incomprehen- 
sible perversity  to  explain  the  delay. 

"Can  you  account  for  Grace's  conduct?"  asked  Lady 
Janet.  Her  manner  changed  as  she  put  the  question.  She 
looked  and  spoke  like  a  person  who  was  perplexed  and  an- 
noyed. 


58  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"I  hardly  like  to  own  it,"  Horace  answered,  "but  I  am 
afraid  she  has  some  motive  for  deferring  our  marriage  which 
she  can  not  confide  either  to  you  or  to  me." 

Lady  Janet  started. 

"  What  makes  you  think  that  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  have  once  or  twice  caught  her  in  tears.  Every  now 
and  then — sometimes  when  she  is  talking  quite  gayly — she 
suddenly  changes  color  and  becomes  silent  and  depressed. 
Just  now,  when  she  left  the  table  (didn't  you  notice  it  ?),  she 
looked  at  me  in  the  strangest  way  —  almost  as  if  she  was 
sorry  for  me.  What  do  these  things  mean  ?" 

Horace's  reply,  instead  of  increasing  Lady  Janet's  anxiety, 
seemed  to  relieve  it.  He  had  observed  nothing  which  she 
had  not  noticed  herself.  "  You  foolish  boy  ?"  she  said, "  the 
meaning  is  plain  enough.  Grace  has  been  out  of  health  for 
some  time  past.  The  doctor  recommends  change  of  air.  I 
shall  take  her  away  with  me." 

"It  would  be  more  to  the  purpose,"  Horace  rejoined,  "if 
I  took  her  away  with  me.  She  might  consent,  if  you  would 
only  use  your  influence.  Is  it  asking  too  much  to  ask  you  to 
persuade  her?  My  mother  and  my  sisters  have  written  to 
her,  and  have  produced  no  effect.  Do  me  the  greatest  of  all 
kindnesses — speak  to  her  to-day !"  He  paused,  and  possess- 
ing himself  of  Lady  Janet's  hand,  pressed  it  entreatingly. 
"  You  have  always  been  so  good  to  me,"  he  said,  softly,  and 
pressed  it  again. 

The  old  lady  looked  at  him.  It  was  impossible  to  dispute 
that  there  were  attractions  in  Horace  Holmcroft's  face  which 
made  it  well  worth  looking  at.  Many  a  woman  might  have 
envied  him  his  clear  complexion,  his  bright  blue  eyes,  and  the 
warm  amber  tint  in  his  light  Saxon  hair.  Men — especially 
men  skilled  in  observing  physiognomy — might  have  noticed 
in  the  shape  of  his  forehead  and  in  the  line  of  his  upper  lip 
the  signs  indicative  of  a  moral  nature  deficient  in  largeness 
and  breadth — of  a  mind  easily  accessible  to  strong  prejudices, 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  59 

and  obstinate  in  maintaining  those  prejudices  in  the  face  of 
conviction  itself.  To  the  observation  of  women  these  remote 
defects  were  too  far  below  the  surface  to  be  visible.  He 
charmed  the  sex  in  general  by  his  rare  personal  advantages, 
and  by  the  graceful  deference  of  his  manner.  To  Lady  Janet 
he  was  endeared,  not  by  his  own  merits  only,  but  by  old  asso- 
ciations that  were  connected  with  him.  His  father  had  been 
one  of  her  many  admirers  in  her  young  days.  Circumstances 
had  parted  them.  Her  marriage  to  another  man  had  been  a 
childless  marriage.  In  past  times,  when  the  boy  Horace  had 
come  to  her  from  school,  she  had  cherished  a  secret  fancy 
(too  absurd  to  be  communicated  to  any  living  creature)  that 
he  ought  to  have  been  her  son,  and  might  have  been  her  son, 
if  she  had  married  his  father !  She  smiled  charmingly,  old 
as  she  was — she  yielded  as  his  mother  might  have  yielded — 
when  the  young  man  took  her  hand  and  entreated  her  to  in- 
terest herself  in  his  marriage.  "  Must  I  really  speak  to 
Grace?"  she  asked,  with  a  gentleness  of  tone  and  manner  far 
from  characteristic,  on  ordinary  occasions,  of  the  lady  of 
Mablethorpe  House.  Horace  saw  that  he  had  gained  his 
point.  He  sprang  to  his  feet;  his  eyes  turned  eagerly  in  the 
direction  of  the  conservatory ;  his  handsome  face  was  radiant 
with  hope.  Lady  Janet  (with  her  mind  full  of  his  father) 
stole  a  last  look  at  him,  sighed  as  she  thought  of  the  vanished 
days,  and  recovered  herself. 

"  Go  to  the  smoking-room,"  she  said,  giving  him  a  push 
toward  the  door.  "Away  with  you,  and  cultivate  the  fa- 
vorite vice  of  the  nineteenth  century."  Horace  attempted  to 
express  his  gratitude.  "Go  and  smoke!"  was  all  she  said, 
pushing  him  out.  "  Go  and  smoke." 

Left  by  herself,  Lady  Janet  took  a  turn  in  the  room,  and 
considered  a  little. 

Horace's  discontent  was  not  unreasonable.  There  was  real- 
ly no  excuse  for  the  delay  of  which  he  complained.  Whether 
the  young  lady  had  a  special  motive  for  hanging  back,  or 


60  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

whether  she  was  merely  fretting  because  she  did  not  know 
her  own  mind,  it  was,  in  either  case,  necessary  to  come  to  a 
distinct  understanding,  sooner  or  later,  on  the  serious  ques- 
tion of  the  marriage.  The  difficulty  was,  how  to  approach 
the  subject  without  giving  offense.  "  I  don't  understand  the 
young  women  of  the  present  generation,"  thought  Lady  Janet. 
"  In  my  time,  when  we  were  fond  of  a  man,  we  were  ready  to 
marry  him  at  a  moment's  notice.  And  this  is  an  age  of  prog- 
ress !  They  ought  to  be  readier  still." 

Arriving,  by  her  own  process  of  induction,  at  this  inevita- 
ble conclusion,  she  decided  to  try  what  her  influence  could 
accomplish,  and  to  trust  to  the  inspiration  of  the  moment  for 
exerting  it  in  the  right  way.  "  Grace  !"  she  called  out,  ap- 
proaching the  conservatory  door.  The  tall,  lithe  figure  in  its 
gray  dress  glided  into  view,  and  stood  relieved  against  the 
green  background  of  the  winter-garden. 

"  Did  your  ladyship  call  me  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  want  to  speak  to  you.  Come  and  sit  down  by 
me." 

With  those  words  Lady  Janet  led  the  way  to  a  sofa,  and 
placed  her  companion  by  her  side. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE    MAN    IS    COMING. 

"  You  look  very  pale  this  morning,  my  child." 

Mercy  sighed  wearily.  "I  am  not  well,"  she  answered. 
"  The  slightest  noises  startle  me.  I  feel  tired  if  I  only  walk 
cross  the  room." 

lady  Janet  patted  her  kindly  on  the  shoulder.  "We  must 
try  what  a  change  will  do  for  you.  Which  shall  it  be?  the 
Continent  or  the  sea-side  ?" 

"  Your  ladyship  is  too  kind  to  me." 

"  It  is  impossible  to  be  too  kind  to  you." 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  61 

Mercy  started.  The  color  flowed  charmingly  over  her  pale 
face.  "  Oh  !"  she  exclaimed,  impulsively.  "  Say  that  again  !" 

"  Say  it  again  ?"  repeated  Lady  Janet,  with  a  look  of  sur- 
prise. 

"  Yes  !  Don't  think  me  presuming  ;  only  think  me  vain. 
I  can't  hear  you  say  too  often  that  you  have  learned  to  like 
me.  Is  it  really  a  pleasure  to  you  to  have  me  in  the  house  ? 
Have  I  always  behaved  well  since  I  have  been  with  you  ?" 

(The  one  excuse  for  the  act  of  personation — if  excuse  there 
could  be — lay  in  the  affirmative  answer  to  those  questions. 
It  would  be  something,  surely,  to  say  of  the  false  Grace  that 
the  true  Grace  could  not  have  been  worthier  of  her  welcome, 
if  the  true  Grace  had  been  received  at  Mablethorpe  House  !) 

Lady  Janet  was  partly  touched,  partly  amused  by  the  ex- 
traordinary earnestness  of  the  appeal  that  had  been  made  to 
her. 

"  Have  you  behaved  well  ?"  she  repeated.  "  My  dear,  you 
talk  as  if  you  were  a  child  !"  She  laid  her  hand  caressingly 
on  Mercy's  arm,  and  continued,  in  a  graver  tone :  "  It  is  hard- 
ly too  much  to  say,  Grace,  that  I  bless  the  day  when  you  first 
came  to  me.  I  do  believe  I  could  be  hardly  fonder  of  you  if 
you  were  my  own  daughter." 

Mercy  suddenly  turned  her  head  aside,  so  as  to  hide  her 
face.  Lady  Janet,  still  touching  her  arm,  felt  it  tremble. 
"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?"  she  asked,  in  her  abrupt, 
downright  manner. 

"  I  am  only  very  grateful  to  your  ladyship — that  is  all." 

The  words  were  spoken  faintly,  in  broken  tones.  The  face 
was  still  averted  from  Lady  Janet's  view.  "  What  have  I 
said  to  provoke  this  ?"  wondered  the  old  lady.  "  Is  she  in 
the  melting  mood  to-day  ?  If  she  is,  now  is  the  time  to  say 
a  word  for  Horace  !"  Keeping  that  excellent  object  in  view, 
Lady  Janet  approached  the  delicate  topic  with  all  needful 
caution  at  starting. 

"  We  have  got  on  so  well  together,"  she  resumed,  "  that  it 


62  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

will  not  be  easy  for  either  of  us  to  feel  reconciled  to  a  change 
in  our  lives.  At  my  age,  it  will  fall  hardest  on  me.  What 
shall  I  do,  Grace,  when  the  day  comes  for  parting  with  my 
adopted  daughter?" 

Mercy  started,  and  showed  her  face  again.  The  traces  of 
tears  were  in  her  eyes.  "  Why  should  I  leave  you  ?"  she  ask- 
ed, in  a  tone  of  alarm. 

"  Surely  you  know  !"  exclaimed  Lady  Janet. 

"  Indeed  I  don't.     Tell  me  why." 

"Ask  Horace  to  tell  you." 

The  last  allusion  was  too  plain  to  be  misunderstood.  Mer- 
cy's head  drooped.  She  began  to  tremble  again.  Lady 
Janet  looked  at  her  in  blank  amazement. 

"  Is  there  any  thing  wrong  between  Horace  and  you  ?"  she 
asked. 

"  No." 

"  You  know  your  own  heart,  my  dear  child  ?  You  have 
surely  not  encouraged  Horace  without  loving  him  ?" 

"  Oh  no !" 

"And  yet—" 

For  the  first  time  in  their  experience  of  each  other  Mercy 
ventured  to  interrupt  her  benefactress.  "  Dear  Lady  Janet," 
she  interposed,  gently,  "I  am  in  no  hurry  to  be  married. 
There  will  be  plenty  of  time  in  the  future  to  talk  of  that. 
You  had  something  you  wished  to  say  to  me.  What  is  it  ?" 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  disconcert  Lady  Janet  Roy. 
But  that  last  question  fairly  reduced  her  to  silence.  After 
all  that  had  passed,  there  sat  her  young  companion,  innocent 
of  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  subject  that  was  to  be  dis- 
cussed between  them !  "  What  are  the  young  women  of  the 
present  time  made  of  ?"  thought  the  old  lady,  utterly  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  to  say  next.  Mercy  waited,  on  her  side,  with 
an  impenetrable  patience  which  only  aggravated  the  difficul- 
ties of  the  position.  The  silence  was  fast  threatening  to 
bring  the  interview  to  a  sudden  and  untimely  end,  when  the 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  63 

door  from  the  library  opened,  and  a  man-servant,  bearing  a 
little  silver  salver,  entered  the  room. 

Lady  Janet's  rising  sense  of  annoyance  instantly  seized  on 
the  servant  as  a  victim.  "What  do  you  want?"  she  asked, 
sharply.  "  I  never  rang  for  you." 

"A  letter,  my  lady.     The  messenger  waits  for  an  answer." 

The  man  presented  his  salver  with  the  letter  on  it,  and 
withdrew. 

Lady  Janet  recognized  the  handwriting  on  the  address 
with  a  look  of  surprise.  "  Excuse  me,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
pausing,  with  her  old-fashioned  courtesy,  before  she  opened 
the  envelope.  Mercy  made  the  necessary  acknowledgment, 
and  moved  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  little  think- 
ing that  the  arrival  of  the  letter  marked  a  crisis  in  her  life. 
Lady  Janet  put  on  her  spectacles.  "  Odd  that  he  should 
have  come  back  already  !"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she  threw 
the  empty  envelope  on  the  table. 

The  letter  contained  these  lines,  the  writer  of  them  being 
no  other  than  the  man  who  had  preach-.!  in  the  chapel  of  the 
Refuge : 

"  DEAR  AUNT, — I  am  back  again  in  London  before  my 
time.  My  friend  the  rector  has  shortened  his  holiday,  and 
has  resumed  his  duties  in  the  country.  I  am  afraid  you  will 
blame  me  when  you  hear  of  the  reasons  which  have  hastened 
his  return.  The  sooner  I  make  my  confession,  the  easier  I 
shall  feel.  Besides,  I  have  a  special  object  in  wishing  to  see 
you  as  soon  as  possible.  May  I  follow  my  letter  to  Mable- 
thorpe  House?  And  may  I  present  a  lady  to  you — a  perfect 
stranger — in  whom  I  am  interested  ?  Pray  say  Yes,  by  the 
bearer,  and  oblige  your  affectionate  nephew, 

"JULIAN  GRAY." 

Lady  Janet  referred  again  suspiciously  to  the  sentence  in 
the  letter  which  alluded  to  the  "  lady." 


64  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Julian  Gray  was  her  only  surviving  nephew,  the  son  of  a 
favorite  sister  whom  she  had  lost.  He  would  have  held  no 
very  exalted  position  in  the  estimation  of  his  aunt — who  re- 
garded his  views  in  politics  and  religion  with  the  strongest 
aversion  —  but  for  his  marked  resemblance  to  his  mother. 
This  pleaded  for  him  with  the  old  lady,  aided  as  it  was  by 
the  pride  that  she  secretly  felt  in  the  early  celebrity  which 
the  young  clergyman  had  achieved  as  a  writer  and  a  preacher. 
Thanks  to  these  mitigating  circumstances,  and  to  Julian's  in- 
exhaustible good-humor,  the  aunt  and  the  nephew  generally 
met  on  friendly  terms.  Apart  from  what  she  called  "  his  de- 
testable opinions,"  Lady  Janet  was  sufficiently  interested  in 
Julian  to  feel  some  curiosity  about  the  mysterious  "lady" 
mentioned  in  the  letter.  Had  he  determined  to  settle  in 
life  ?  Was  his  choice  already  made  ?  And  if  so,  would  it 
prove  to  be  a  choice  acceptable  to  the  family  ?  Lady  Janet's 
bright  face  showed  signs  of  doubt  as  she  asked  herself  that 
last  question.  Julian's  liberal  views  were  capable  of  leading 
him  to  dangerous  extremes.  His  aunt  shook  hor  head  ominous- 
ly as  she  rose  from  the  sofa  and  advanced  to  the  library  door. 

"  Grace,"  she  said,  pausing  and  turning  round,  "  I  have  a 
note  to  write  to  my  nephew.  I  shall  be  back  directly." 

Mercy  approached  her,  from  the  opposite  extremity  of  the 
room,  with  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

"Your  nephew?"  she  repeated.  "Your  ladyship  never 
told  me  you  had  a  nephew." 

Lady  Janet  laughed.  "  I  must  have  had  it  on  the  tip  of 
my  tongue  to  tell  you,  over  and  over  again,"  she  said.  "  But 
we  have  had  so  many  things  to  talk  about — and,  to  own  the 
truth,  my  nephew  is  not  one  of  my  favorite  subjects  of  con- 
versation. I  don't  mean  that  I  dislike  him ;  I  detest  his  prin- 
ciples, my  dear,  that's  all.  However,  you  shall  form  your 
own  opinion  of  him ;  he  is  coming  to  see  me  to-day.  Wait 
here  till  I  return ;  I  have  something  more  to  say  about  Hor- 
ace." 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  65 

Mercy  opened  the  library  door  for  her,  closed  it  again,  and 
walked  slowly  to  and  fro  alone  in  the  room,  thinking. 

Was  her  mind  running  on  Lady  Janet's  nephew  ?  No. 
Lady  Janet's  brief  allusion  to  her  relative  had  not  led  her  into 
alluding  to  him  by  his  name.  Mercy  was  still  as  ignorant  as 
ever  that  the  preacher  at  the  Refuge  and  the  nephew  of  her 
benefactress  were  one  and  the  same  man.  Her  memory  was 
busy  now  with  the  tribute  which  Lady  Janet  had  paid  to  her 
at  the  outset  of  the  interview  between  them :  "  It  is  hardly 
too  much  to  say,  Grace,  that  I  bless  the  day  when  you  first 
came  to  me."  For  the  moment  there  was  balm  for  her 
wounded  spirit  in  the  remembrance  of  those  words.  Grace 
Koseberry  herself  could  surely  have  earned  no  sweeter  praise 
than  the  praise  that  she  had  won.  The  next  instant  she 
was  seized  with  a  sudden  horror  of  her  own  successful  fraud. 
The  sense  of  her  degradation  had  never  been  so  bitterly  pres- 
ent to  her  as  at  that  moment.  If  she  could  only  confess 
the  truth — if  she  could  innocently  enjoy  her  harmless  life  at 
Mablethorpe  House — what  a  grateful,  happy  woman  she  might 
be !  Was  it  possible  (if  she  made  the  confession)  to  trust  to 
her  own  good  conduct  to  plead  her  excuse  ?  No  !  Her  calm- 
er sense  warned  her  that  it  was  hopeless.  The  place  she  had 
won — honestly  won — in  Lady  Janet's  estimation  had  been 
obtained  by  a  trick.  Nothing  could  alter,  nothing  could  ex- 
cuse that.  She  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  dashed  away 
the  useless  tears  that  had  gathered  in  her  eyes,  and  tried  to  turn 
her  thoughts  some  other  way.  What  was  it  Lady  Janet  had 
said  on  going  into  the  library  ?  She  had  said  she  was  com- 
ing back  to  speak  about  Horace.  Mercy  guessed  what  the 
object  was ;  she  knew  but  too  well  what  Horace  wanted  of 
her.  How  was  she  to  meet  the  emergency  ?  In  the  name  of 
Heaven,  what  was  to  be  done?  Could  she  let  the  man  who 
loved  her  —  the  man  whom  she  loved— drift  blindfold  into 
marriage  with  such  a  woman  as  she  had  been  ?  No  !  it  was 
her  duty  to  warn  him.  How  ?  Could  she  break  his  heart, 


66  THE    NEW   MAGDALEX. 

could  she  lay  his  life  waste  by  speaking  the  cruel  words 
which  might  part  them  forever  ?  "I  can't  tell  him  !  I  won't 
tell  him  !"  she  burst  out,  passionately.  "  The  disgrace  of  it 
would  kill  me  !"  Her  varying  mood  changed  as  the  words 
escaped  her.  A  reckless  defiance  of  her  own  better  nature — 
that  saddest  of  all  the  forms  in  which  a  woman's  misery  can 
express  itself — filled  her  heart  with  its  poisoning  bitterness. 
She  sat  down  again  on  the  sofa  with  eyes  that  glittered  and 
cheeks  suffused  with  an  angry  red.  "I  am  no  worse  than 
another  woman  !"  she  thought.  "Another  woman  might  have 
married  him  for  his  money."  The  next  moment  the  misera- 
ble insufficiency  of  her  own  excuse  for  deceiving  him  showed 
its  hollowness,  self-exposed.  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  found  refuge — where  she  had  often  found  refuge 
before — in  the  helpless  resignation  of  despair.  Oh,  that  I  had 
died  before  I  entered  this  house  !  Oh,  that  I  could  die  and 
have  done  with  it  at  this  moment !"  So  the  struggle  had 
ended  with  her  hundreds  of  times  already.  So  it  ended  now. 

The  door  leading  into  the  billiard-room  opened  softly. 
Horace  Holmcroft  had  waited  to  hear  the  result  of  Lady  Ja- 
net's interference  in  his  favor  until  he  could  wait  no  longer. 

He  looked  in  cautiously,  ready  to  withdraw  again  unnoticed 
if  the  two  were  still  talking  together.  The  absence  of  Lady 
Janet  suggested  that  the  interview  had  come  to  an  end.  W  as 
his  betrothed  wife  waiting  alone  to  speak  to  him  on  his  re- 
turn to  the  room  ?  He  advanced  a  few  steps.  She  never 
moved  ;  she  sat  heedless,  absorbed  in  her  thoughts.  Were 
they  thoughts  of  him  ?  He  advanced  a  little  nearer,  and 
called  to  her. 

"  Grace  !" 

She  sprang  to  her  feet,  with  a  faint  cry.  "  I  wish  you 
wouldn't  startle  me,"  she  said,  irritably,  sinking  back  on  the 
sofa.  "Any  sudden  alarm  sets  my  heart  beating  as  if  it 
would  choke  me." 


THE  NEW  MAGDALEN.  67 

Horace  pleaded  for  pardon  with  a  lover's  humility.  In  her 
present  state  of  nervous  irritation  she  was  not  to  be  appeased. 
She  looked  away  from  him  in  silence.  Entirely  ignorant  of 
the  paroxysm  of  mental  suffering  through  which  she  had  just 
passed,  he  seated  himself  by  her  side,  and  asked  her  gently  if 
she  had  seen  Lady  Janet.  She  made  an  affirmative  answer 
with  an  unreasonable  impatience  of  tone  and  manner  which 
would  have  warned  an  older  and  more  experienced  man  to 
give  her  time  before  he  spoke  again.  Horace  was  young, 
and  weary  of  the  suspense  that  he  had  endured  in  the  other 
room.  He  unwisely  pressed  her  with  another  question. 

"  Has  Lady  Janet  said  any  thing  to  you — 

She  turned  on  him  angrily  before  he  could  finish  the  sen- 
tence. "  You  have  tried  to  make  her  hurry  me  into  marry- 
ing you,"  she  burst  out.  "  I  see  it  in  your  face  !" 

Plain  as  the  warning  was  this  time,  Horace  still  failed  to 
interpret  it  in  the  right  way.  "  Don't  be  angry !"  he  said, 
good-humoredly.  "  Is  it  so  very  inexcusable  to  ask  Lady  Ja- 
net to  intercede  for  me  ?  I  have  tried  to  persuade  you  in 
vain.  My  mother  and  my  sisters  have  pleaded  for  me,  and 
you  turn  a  deaf  ear — 

She  could  endure  it  no  longer.  She  stamped  her  foot  on 
the  floor  with  hysterical  vehemence.  "I  am  weary  of  hear- 
ing of  your  mother  and  your  sisters !"  she  broke  in  violently. 
"  You  talk  of  nothing  else." 

"It  was  just  possible  to  make  one  more  mistake  in  dealing 
with  her — and  Horace  made  it.  He  took  offense,  on  his  side, 
and  rose  from  the  sofa.  His  mother  and  sisters  were  high 
authorities  in  his  estimation  ;  they  variously  represented  his 
ideal  of  perfection  in  women.  He  withdrew  to  the  opposite 
extremity  of  the  room,  and  administered  the  severest  reproof 
that  he  could  think  of  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 

"  It  would  be  well,  Grace,  if  you  followed  the  example  set 
you  by  my  mother  and  my  sisters,"  he  said.  "  They  are  not 
iu  the  habit  of  speaking  cruelly  to  those  who  love  them." 


68  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

To  all  appearance  the  rebuke  failed  to  produce  the  slight- 
est effect.  She  seemed  to  be  as  indifferent  to  it  as  if  it  had 
not  reached  her  ears.  There  was  a  spirit  in  her — a  misera- 
ble spirit,  born  of  her  own  bitter  experience  —  which  rose 
in  revolt  against  Horace's  habitual  glorification  of  the  ladies 
of  his  family.  "  It  sickens  me,"  she  thought  to  herself,  "  to 
hear  of  the  virtues  of  women  who  have  never  been  tempted ! 
Where  is  the  merit  of  living  reputably,  when  your  life  is  one 
course  of  prosperity  and  enjoyment  ?  Has  his  mother  known 
starvation  ?  Have  his  sisters  been  left  forsaken  in  the  street?" 
It  hardened  her  heart — it  almost  reconciled  her  to  deceiving 
him — when  he  set  his  relatives  up  as  patterns  for  her.  Would 
he  never  understand  that  women  detested  having  other  wom- 
en exhibited  as  examples  to  them  ?  She  looked  round  at  him 
with  a  sense  of  impatient  wonder.  He  was  sitting  at  the 
luncheon-table,  with  his  back  turned  on  her,  and  his  head  rest- 
ing on  his  hand.  If  he  had  attempted  to  rejoin  her,  she 
would  have  repelled  him ;  if  he  had  spoken,  she  would  have 
met  him  with  a  sharp  reply.  He  sat  apart  from  her,  without 
uttering  a  word.  In  a  man's  hands  silence  is  the  most  ter- 
rible of  all  protests  to  the  woman  who  loves  him.  Violence 
she  can  enduie.  Words  she  is  always  ready  to  meet  by 
words  on  her  side.  Silence  conquers  her.  After  a  moment's 
hesitation,  Mercy  left  the  sofa  and  advanced  submissively  to- 
ward the  table.  She  had  offended  him — and  she  alone  was 
in  fault.  How  should  he  know  it,  poor  fellow,  when  he  in- 
nocently mortified  her?  Step  by  step  she  drew  closer  and 
closer.  He  never  looked  round ;  he  never  moved.  She  laid 
her  hand  timidly  on  his  shoulder.  "Forgive  me,  Horace," 
she  whispered  in  his  ear.  "I  am  suffering  this  morning;  I 
am  not  myself.  I  didn't  mean  what  I  said.  Pray  forgive 
me."  There  was  no  resisting  the  caressing  tenderness  of 
voice  and  manner  which  accompanied  those  words.  He  look- 
ed up ;  he  took  her  hand.  She  bent  over  him,  and  touched 
his  forehead  with  her  lips.  "  Am  I  forgiven  ?"  she  asked. 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  69 

"  Oh,  my  darling,"  he  said,  "  if  you  only  knew  how  I  loved 
you  !" 

"  I  do  know  it,"  she  answered,  gently,  twining  his  hai? 
round  her  finger,  and  arranging  it  over  his  forehead  where 
his  hand  had  ruffled  it. 

They  were  completely  absorbed  in  each  other,  or  they  must, 
at  that  moment,  have  heard  the  library  door  open  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room. 

Lady  Janet  had  written  the  necessary  reply  to  her  nephew, 
and  had  returned,  faithful  to  her  engagement,  to  plead  the 
cause  of  Horace.  The  first  object  that  met  her  view  was  her 
client  pleading,  with  conspicuous  success,  for  himself!  "I 
am  not  wanted,  evidently,"  thought  the  old  lady.  She  noise- 
lessly closed  the  door  again,  and  left  the  lovers  by  them- 
selves. 

Horace  returned,  with  unwise  persistency,  to  the  question 
of  the  deferred  marriage.  At  the  first  words  that  he  spoke 
she  drew  back  directly — sadly,  not  angrily. 

"  Don't  press  me  to-day,"  she  said ;  "  I  am  not  well  to-day." 

He  rose  and  looked  at  her  anxiously.  "  May  I  speak  about 
it  to-morrow  ?" 

"  Yes,  to-morrow."  She  returned  to  the  sofa,  and  changed 
the  subject.  "  What  a  time  Lady  Janet  is  away  !"  she  said. 
"  What  can  be  keeping  her  so  long  ?" 

Horace  did  his  best  to  appear  interested  in  the  question 
of  Lady  Janet's  prolonged  absence.  "What  made  her  leave 
you?"  he  asked, standing  at  the  back  of  the  sofa  and  leaning 
over  her. 

"  She  went  into  the  library  to  write  a  note  to  her  nephew. 
By-the-bye,  who  is  her  nephew  ?" 

"Is  it  possible  you  don't  know?" 

"  Indeed  I  don't." 

"You  have  heard  of  him,  no  doubt,"  said  Horace.  "Lady 
Janet's  nephew  is  a  celebrated  man."  He  paused,  and  stoop- 
ing nearer  to  her,  lifted  a  love-lock  that  lay  over  her  shoulder, 


70  THE  NEW   MAGDALEN. 

and  pressed  it  to  his  lips.  "Lady  Janet's  nephew,"  he  re- 
sumed, "  is  Julian  Gray." 

She  started  off  her  seat,  and  looked  round  at  him  in  blank, 
bewildered  terror,  as  if  she  doubted  the  evidence  of  her  own 
senses. 

Horace  was  completely  taken  by  surprise.  "My  dear 
Grace !"  he  exclaimed ;  "  what  have  I  said  or  done  to  startle 
you  this  time  ?" 

She  held  up  her  hand  for  silence.  "  Lady  Janet's  nephew 
is  Julian  Gray,"  she  repeated ;  "  and  I  only  know  it  now  !" 

Horace's  perplexity  increased.  "  My  darling,  now  you  do 
know  it,  what  is  there  to  alarm  you  ?"  he  asked. 

(There  was  enough  to  alarm  the  boldest  woman  living — in 
such  a  position,  and  with  such  a  temperament  as  hers.  To 
her  mind  the  personation  of  Grace  Roseberry  had  suddenly 
assumed  a  new  aspect:  the  aspect  of  a  fatality.  It  had  led 
her  blindfold  to  the  house  in  which  she  and  the  preacher  at 
the  Refuge  were  to  meet.  He  was  coming — the  man  who  had 
reached  her  inmost  heart,  who  had  influenced  her  whole  life ! 
Was  the  day  of  reckoning  coming  with  him?) 

"Don't  notice  me,"  she  said,  faintly.  "I  have  been  ill  all 
the  morning.  You  saw  it  yourself  when  you  came  in  here ; 
even  the  sound  of  your  voice  alarmed  me.  I  shall  be  better 
directly.  I  am  afraid  I  startled  you  ?" 

"  My  dear  Grace,  it  almost  looked  as  if  you  were  terrified 
at  the  sound  of  Julian's  name !  He  is  a  public  celebrity,  I 
know ;  and  I  have  seen  ladies  start  and  stare  at  him  when  he 
entered  a  room.  But  you  looked  perfectly  panic-stricken." 

She  rallied  her  courage  by  a  desperate  effort ;  she  laughed 
— a  harsh,  uneasy  laugh — and  stopped  him  by  putting  her 
hand  over  his  mouth.  "Absurd !"  she  said,  lightly.  "As  if 
Mr.  Julian  Gray  had  any  thing  to  do  with  my  looks !  I  am 
better  already.  See  for  yourself !"  She  looked  round  at  him 
again  with  a  ghastly  gayety;  and  returned,  with  a  desper- 
ate assumption  of  indifference,  to  the  subject  of  Lady  Janet's 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  71 

nephew.  "  Of  course  I  have  heard  of  him,"  she  said.  "  Do 
you  know  that  he  is  expected  here  to-day?  Don't  stand 
there  behind  me — it's  so  hard  to  talk  to  you.  Come  and  sit 
down." 

He  obeyed — but  she  had  not  quite  satisfied  him  yet.  His 
face  had  not  lost  its  expression  of  anxiety  and  surprise.  She 
persisted  in  playing  her  part,  determined  to  set  at  rest  in  him 
any  possible  suspicion  that  she  had  reasons  of  her  own  for 
being  afraid  of  Julian  Gray.  "Tell  me  about  this  famous 
man  of  yours,"  she  said,  putting  her  arm  familiarly  through 
his  arm.  "  What  is  he  like  ?" 

The  caressing  action  and  the  easy  tone  had  their  effect  on 
Horace.  His  face  began  to  clear ;  he  answered  her  lightly  on 
his  side. 

"Prepare  yourself  to  meet  the  most  unclerical  of  clergy- 
men," he  said.  "  Julian  is  a  lost  sheep  among  the  parsons, 
and  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  his  bishop.  Preaches,  if  they  ask 
him,  in  Dissenters'  chapels.  Declines  to  set  up  any  preten- 
sions to  priestly  authority  and  priestly  power.  Goes  about 
doing  good  on  a  plan  of  his  own.  Is  quite  resigned  never  to 
rise  to  the  high  places  in  his  profession.  Says  it's  rising  high 
enough  for  him  to  be  the  Archdeacon  of  the  afflicted,  the 
Dean  of  the  hungry,  and  the  Bishop  of  the  poor.  With  all 
his  oddities,  as  good  a  fellow  as  ever  lived.  Immensely  pop- 
ular with  the  women.  They  all  go  to  him  for  advice.  I  wish 
you  would  go  too." 

Mercy  changed  color.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  asked, 
sharply. 

"  Julian  is  famous  for  his  powers  of  persuasion,"  said  Hor- 
ace, smiling.  "  If  he  spoke  to  you,  Grace,  he  would  prevail  on 
you  to  fix  the  day.  Suppose  I  ask  Julian  to  plead  for  me  ?" 

He  made  the  proposal  in  jest.  Mercy's  unquiet  mind  ac- 
cepted it  as  addressed  to  her  in  earnest.  "  He  will  do  it,"  she 
thought,  with  a  sense  of  indescribable  terror,  "  if  I  don't  stop 
him !"  There  is  but  one  chance  for  her.  The  only  certain 

4 


72  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

way  to  prevent  Horace  from  appealing  to  his  friend  was  to 
grant  what  Horace  wished  for  before  his  friend  entered  the 
house.  She  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder ;  she  hid  the  terri- 
ble anxieties  that  were  devouring  her  under  an  assumption  of 
coquetry  painful  and  pitiable  to  see. 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense  !"  she  said,  gayly.  "  What  were  we 
saying  just  now — before  we  began  to  speak  of  Mr.  Julian 
Gray?" 

"  We  were  wondering  what  had  become  of  Lady  Janet," 
Horace  replied. 

She  tapped  him  impatiently  on  the  shoulder.  "  No !  no  ! 
It  was  something  you  said  before  that." 

Her  eyes  completed  what  her  words  had  left  unsaid.  Hor- 
ace's arm  stole  round  her  waist. 

"  I  was  saying  that  I  loved  you,"  he  answered,  in  a  whisper. 

"Only  that?" 

"Are  you  tired  of  hearing  it?" 

She  smiled  charmingly.  "Are  you  so  very  much  in  ear- 
nest about — about —  She  stopped,  and  looked  away  from 
him. 

"About  our  marriage?" 

"Yes." 

"  It  is  the  one  dearest  wish  of  my  life." 

"Really?" 

"Really." 

There  was  a  pause.  Mercy's  fingers  toyed  nervously  with 
the  trinkets  at  her  watch-chain.  "When  would  you  like  it 
to  be  ?"  she  said,  very  softly,  with  her  whole  attention  fixed 
on  the  watch-chain. 

She  had  never  spoken,  she  had  never  looked,  as  she  spoke 
and  looked  now.  Horace  was  afraid  to  believe  in  his  own 
good  fortune.  "  Oh,  Grace !"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  are  not  tri- 
fling with  me  ?" 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  am  trifling  with  you  ?" 

Horace    was    innocent  enough    to    answer  her    seriously. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  73 

"You  would  not  even  let  me  speak  of  our  marriage  just 
now,"  he  said. 

"  Never  mind  what  I  did  just  now,"  she  retorted,  petulant- 
ly. "  They  say  women  are  changeable.  It  is  one  of  the  de- 
fects of  the  sex." 

"  Heaven  be  praised  for  the  defects  of  the  sex !"  cried  Hor- 
ace, with  devout  sincerity.  "Do  you  really  leave  me  to  de- 
cide?" 

"  If  you  insist  on  it." 

Horace  considered  for  a  moment — the  subject  being  the 
law  of  marriage.  "  We  may  be  married  by  license  in  a  fort- 
night," he  said.  "  I  fix  this  day  fortnight." 

She  held  up  her  hands  in  protest. 

"  Why  not  ?  My  lawyer  is  ready.  There  are  no  prepara 
tions  to  make.  You  said  when  you  accepted  me  that  it  was 
to  be  a  private  marriage." 

Mercy  was  obliged  to  own  that  she  had  certainly  said  that. 

"  We  might  be  married  at  once — if  the  law  would  only  let 
us.  This  day  fortnight !  Say — Yes !"  He  drew  her  closer 
to  him.  There  was  a  pause.  The  mask  of  coquetry — badly 
worn  from  the  first — dropped  from  her.  Her  sad  gray  eyes 
rested  compassionately  on  his  eager  face.  "Don't  look  so 
serious  !"  he  said.  "  Only  one  little  word,  Grace !  Only  Yes." 

She  sighed,  and  said  it.  He  kissed  her  passionately.  It 
was  only  by  a  resolute  effort  that  she  released  herself. 
"  Leave  me  !"  she  said,  faintly.  "  Pray  leave  me  by  myself !" 

She  was  in  earnest — strangely  in  earnest.  She  was  trem- 
bling from  head  to  foot.  Horace  rose  to  leave  her.  "  I  will 
find  Lady  Janet,"  he  said ;  "  I  long  to  show  the  dear  old  lady 
that  I  have  recovered  my  spirits,  and  to  tell  her  why."  He 
turned  round  at  the  library  door.  "You  won't  go  away? 
You  will  let  me  see  you  again  when  you  are  more  composed  ?" 

"  I  will  wait  here,"  said  Mercy. 

Satisfied  with  that  reply,  he  left  the  room. 

Her  hands  dropped  on  her  lap ;  her  head  sank  back  wearily 


74  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

on  the  cushions  at  the  head  of  the  sofa.  There  was  a  dazed 
sensation  in  her :  her  mind  felt  stunned.  She  wondered  vacant- 
ly whether  she  was  awake  or  dreaming.  Had  she  really  said 
the  word  which  pledged  her  to  marry  Horace  Holmcroft  in  a 
fortnight?  A  fortnight!  Something  might  happen  in  that 
time  to  prevent  it :  she  might  find  her  way  in  a  fortnight  out 
of  the  terrible  position  in  which  she  stood.  Any  way,  come 
what  might  of  it,  she  had  chosen  the  preferable  alternative 
to  a  private  interview  with  Julian  Gray.  She  raised  herself 
from  her  recumbent  position  with  a  start,  as  the  idea  of  the 
interview — dismissed  for  the  last  few  minutes — possessed  it- 
self again  of  her  mind.  Her  excited  imagination  figured  Ju- 
lian Gray  as  present  in  the  room  at  that  moment,  speaking  to 
her  as  Horace  had  proposed.  She  saw  him  seated  close  at 
her  side — this  man  who  had  shaken  her  to  the  soul  when  he 
was  in  the  pulpit,  and  when  she  was  listening  to  him  (unseen) 
at  the  other  end  of  the  chapel — she  saw  him  close  by  her, 
looking  her  searchirigly  in  the  face;  seeing  her  shameful  se- 
cret in  her  eyes ;  hearing  it  in  her  voice ;  feeling  it  in  her 
trembling  hands ;  forcing  it  out  of  her  word  by  word,  till  she 
fell  prostrate  at  his  feet  with  the  confession  of  the  fraud. 
Her  head  dropped  again  on  the  cushions ;  she  hid  her  face  in 
horror  of  the  scene  which  her  excited  fancy  had  conjured  up. 
Even  now,  when  she  had  made  that  dreaded  interview  need- 
less, could  she  feel  sure  (meeting  him  only  on  the  most  dis- 
tant terms)  of  not  betraying  herself  ?  She  could  not  feel  sure. 
Something  in  her  shuddered  and  shrank  at  the  bare  idea  of 
finding  herself  in  the  same  room  with  him.  She  felt  it,  she 
knew  it:  her  guilty  conscience  owned  and  feared  its  master 
in  Julian  Gray ! 

The  minutes  passed.  The  violence  of  her  agitation  began 
to  tell  physically  on  her  weakened  frame. 

She  found  herself  crying  silently  without  knowing  why. 
A  weight  was  on  her  head,  a  weariness  was  in  all  her  limbs. 
She  sank  lower  on  the  cushions — her  eyes  closed — the  monot 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  75 

onous  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the  mantel-piece  grew  drowsily 
fainter  and  fainter  on  her  ear.  Little  by  little  she  dropped 
into  slumber — slumber  so  light  that  she  started  when  a  mor- 
sel of  coal  fell  into  the  grate,  or  when  the  birds  chirped  and 
twittered  in  their  aviary  In  the  winter-garden. 

Lady  Janet  and  Horace  came  in.  She  was  faintly  con- 
scious of  persons  in  the  room.  After  an  interval  she  opened 
her  eyes,  and  half  rose  to  speak  to  them.  The  room  was 
empty  again.  They  had  stolen  out  softly,  and  left  her  to  re- 
pose. Her  eyes  closed  once  more.  She  dropped  back  into 
slumber,  and  from  slumber,  in  the  favoring  warmth  and  quiet 
of  the  place,  into  deep  and  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE    MAN     APPEARS. 

AFTER  an  interval  of  rest  Mercy  was  aroused  by  the  shut- 
ting of  a  glass  door  at  the  far  end  of  the  conservatory.  This 
door,  leading  into  the  garden,  was  used  only  by  the  inmates 
of  the  house,  or  by  old  friends  privileged  to  enter  the  recep- 
tion-rooms by  that  way.  Assuming  that  either  Horace  or 
Lady  Janet  was  returning  to  the  dining-room,  Mercy  raised 
herself  a  little  on  the  sofa  and  listened. 

The  voice  of  one  of  the  men-servants  caught  her  ear.  It 
was  answered  by  another  voice,  which  instantly  set  her  trem- 
bling in  every  limb. 

She  started  up,  and  listened  again  in  speechless  terror. 
Yes  !  there  was  no  mistaking  it.  The  voice  that  was  answer- 
ing the  servant  was  the  unforgotten  voice  which  she  had 
heard  at  the  Refuge.  The  visitor  who  had  come  in  by  the 
glass  door  was — Julian  Gray  ! 

His  rapid  footsteps  advanced  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  din- 
ing-room. She  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  hurry  to  the 
library  door.  Her  hand  shook  so  that  she  failed  at  tirst  to 


76  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

open  it.  She  had  just  succeeded  when  she  heard  him  again 
— speaking  to  her. 

"Pray  don't  run  away!  I  am  nothing  very  formidable. 
Only  Lady  Janet's  nephew — Julian  Gray." 

She  turned  slowly,  spell-bound  by  his  voice,  and  confronted 
him  in  silence. 

He  was  standing,  hat  in  hand,  at  the  entrance  to  the  con- 
servatory, dressed  in  black,  and  wearing  a  white  cravat,  but 
with  a  studious  avoidance  of  any  thing  specially  clerical  in 
the  make  and  form  of  his  clothes.  Young  as  he  was,  there 
were  marks  of  care  already  on  his  face,  and  the  hair  was  pre- 
maturely thin  and  scanty  over  his  forehead.  His  slight  act- 
ive figure  was  of  no  more  than  the  middle  height.  His  com- 
plexion was  pale.  The  lower  part  of  his  face,  without  beard 
or  whiskers,  was  in  no  way  remarkable.  An  average  observer 
would  have  passed  him  by  without  notice — but  for  his  eyes. 
These  alone  made  a  marked  man  of  him.  The  unusual  size 
of  the  orbits  in  which  they  were  set  was  enough  of  itself  to 
attract  attention  ;  it  gave  a  grandeur  to  his  head,  which  the 
head,  broad  and  firm  as  it  was,  did  not  possess.  As  to  the 
eyes  themselves,  the  soft  lustrous  brightness  of  them  defied 
analysis.  No  two  people  could  agree  about  their  color ;  di- 
vided opinion  declaring  alternately  that  they  were  dark  gray 
or  black.  Painters  had  tried  to  reproduce  them,  and  had 
given  up  the  effort,  in  despair  of  seizing  any  one  expression 
in  the  bewildering  variety  of  expressions  which  they  pre- 
sented to  view.  They  were  eyes  that  could  charm  at  one  mo- 
ment and  terrify  at  another ;  eyes  that  could  set  people  laugh- 
ing or  crying  almost  at  will.  In  action  and  in  repose  they 
were  irresistible  alike.  When  they  first  descried  Mercy  run- 
ning to  the  door,  they  brightened  gayly  with  the  merriment 
of  a  child.  When  she  turned  and  faced  him,  they  changed 
instantly,  softening  and  glowing  as  they  mutely  owned  the 
interest  and  the  admiration  which  the  first  sight  of  her  had 
roused  in  him.  His  tone  and  manner  altered  at  the  same 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  77 

time.  He  addressed  her  with  the  deepest  respect  when  he 
spoke  his  next  words. 

"  Let  me  entreat  you  to  favor  me  by  resuming  your  seat," 
he  said.  "And  let  me  ask  your  pardon  if  I  have  thoughtless- 
ly intruded  on  you." 

He  paused,  waiting  for  her  reply  before  he  advanced  into 
the  room.  Still  spell-bound  by  his  voice,  she  recovered  self- 
control  enough  to  bow  to  him  and  to  resume  her  place  on  the 
sofa.  It  was  impossible  to  leave  him  now.  After  looking  at 
her  for  a  moment,  he  entered  the  room  without  speaking  to 
her  again.  She  was  beginning  to  perplex  as  well  as  to  in- 
terest him.  "  No  common  sorrow,"  he  thought,  "  has  set  its 
murk  on  that  woman's  face ;  no  common  heart  beats  in  that 
woman's  breast.  Who  can  she  be  ?" 

Mercy  rallied  her  courage,  and  forced  herself  to  speak  to 
him. 

"  Lady  Janet  is  in  the  library,  I  believe,"  she  said,  timidly. 
"  Shall  I  tell  her  you  are  here  ?" 

"Don't  disturb  Lady  Janet,  and  don't  disturb  yourself." 
With  that  answer  he  approached  the  luncheon-table,  delicate- 
ly giving  her  time  to  feel  more  at  her  ease.  He  took  up 
what  Horace  had  left  of  the  bottle  of  claret,  and  poured  it 
into  a  glass.  "  My  aunt's  claret  shall  represent  my  aunt  for 
the  present,"  he  said,  smiling,  as  he  turned  toward  her  once 
more.  "I  have  had  a  long  walk,  and  I  may  venture  to  help 
myself  in  this  house  without  invitation.  Is  it  useless  to  offer 
you  any  thing?" 

Mercy  made  the  necessary  reply.  She  was  beginning  al- 
ready, after  her  remarkable  experience  of  him,  to  wonder  at 
his  easy  manners  and  his  light  way  of  talking. 

He  emptied  his  glass  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  thoroughly 
understood  and  enjoyed  good  wine.  "My  aunt's  claret  is 
worthy  of  my  aunt,"  he  said,  with  comic  gravity,  as  he  set 
down  the  glass.  "  Both  are  the  genuine  products  of  Nature." 
He  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and  looked  critically  at  the 


78  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

different  dishes  left  on  it.  One  dish  especially  attracted  his 
attention.  "  What  is  this  ?"  he  went  on.  "  A  French  pie ! 
It  seems  grossly  unfair  to  taste  French  wine,  and  to  pass  over 
French  pie  without  notice."  He  took  up  a  knife  and  fork, 
and  enjoyed  the  pie  as  critically  as  he  had  enjoyed  the  wine. 
"  Worthy  of  the  Great  Nation !"  he  exclaimed,  with  enthu- 
siasm. "  Vive  la  France  /" 

Mercy  listened  and  looked,  in  inexpressible  astonishment. 
He  was  utterly  unlike  the  picture  which  her  fancy  had  drawn 
of  him  in  every-day  life.  Take  off  his  white  cravat,  and  no- 
body would  have  discovered  that  this  famous  preacher  was  a 
clergyman ! 

He  helped  himself  to  another  plateful  of  the  pie,  and  spoke 
more  directly  to  Mercy,  alternately  eating  and  talking  as  com- 
posedly and  pleasantly  as  if  they  had  known  each  other  for 
years. 

"I  came  here  by  way  of  Kensington  Gardens,"  he  said. 
"  For  some  time  past  I  have  been  living  in  a  flat,  ugly,  barren, 
agricultural  district.  You  can't  think  how  pleasant  I  found 
the  picture  presented  by  the  Gardens,  as  a  contrast.  The  la- 
dies in  their  rich  winter  dresses,  the  smart  nursery  maids,  the 
lovely  children,  the  ever-moving  crowd  skating  on  the  ice  of 
the  Round  Pond  ;  it  was  all  so  exhilarating  after  what  I  have 
been  used  to,  that  I  actually  caught  myself  whistling  as  I 
walked  through  the  brilliant  scene !  (In  my  time  boys  used 
always  to  whistle  when  they  were  in  good  spirits,  and  I  have 
not  got  over  the  habit  yet.)  Who  do  you  think  I  met  when 
I  was  in  full  song  ?" 

As  well  as  her  amazement  would  let  her,  Mercy  excused 
herself  from  guessing.  She  had  never  in  all  her  life  before 
spoken  to  any  living  being  so  confusedly  and  so  unintelligent- 
ly  as  she  now  spoke  to  Julian  Gray ! 

He  went  on  more  gayly  than  ever,  without  appearing  to 
notice  the  effect  that  he  had  produced  on  her. 

"  Whom  did  I  meet,"  he  repeated, "  when  I  was  in  full 


TUB    NEW    MAGDALEN.  79 

song?  My  bishop!  If  I  had  been  whistling  a  sacred  melo- 
dy, his  lordship  might  perhaps  have  excused  my  vulgarity 
out  of  consideration  for  my  music.  Unfortunately,  the  com- 
position I  was  executing  at  the  moment  (I  am  one  of  the 
loudest  of  living  whistlers)  was  by  Verdi — lLa  Donna  e  Mo- 
bile ' — familiar,  no  doubt,  to  his  lordship  on  the  street  organs. 
He  recognized  the  tune,  poor  man,  and  when  I  took  off  ray  hat 
to  him  he  looked  the  other  way.  Strange,  in  a  world  that  is 
bursting  with  sin  and  sorrow,  to  treat  such  a  trifle  seriously 
as  a  cheerful  clergyman  whistling  a  tune !"  He  pushed  away, 
his  plate  as  he  said  the  last  words,  and  went  on  simply  and 
earnestly  in  an  altered  tone.  "  I  have  never  been  able,"  he 
said, "  to  see  why  we  should  assert  ourselves  among  other 
men  as  belonging  to  a  particular  caste,  and  as  being  forbid- 
den, in  any  harmless  thing,  to  do  as  other  people  do.  The 
disciples  of  old  set  us  no  such  example;  they  were  wiser  and 
better  than  we  are.  I  venture  to  say  that  one  of  the  worst 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  our  doing  good  among  our  fellow- 
creatures  is  raised  by  the  mere  assumption  of  the  clerical 
manner  and  the  clerical  voice.  For  my  part,  I  set  up  no 
claim  to  be  more  sacred  and  more  reverend  than  any  other 
Christian  man  who  does  what  good  he  can."  He  glanced 
brightly  at  Mercy,  looking  at  her  in  helpless  perplexity.  The 
spirit  of  fun  took  possession  of  him  again.  "Are  you  a  Rad- 
ical?" he  asked,  with  a  humorous  twinkle  in  his  large  lustrous 
eyes.  "  I  am  !" 

Mercy  tried  hard  to  understand  him,  and  tried  in  vain. 
Could  this  be  the  preacher  whose  words  had  charmed,  puri- 
fied, ennobled  her?  Was  this  the  man  whose  sermon  had 
drawn  tears  from  women  about  her  whom  she  knew  to  be 
shameless  and  hardened  in  crime?  Yes!  The  eyes  that 
now  rested  on  her  humorously  were  the  beautiful  eyes  which 
had  once  looked  into  her  soul.  The  voice  that  had  just  nTl- 
dressed  a  jesting  question  to  her  was  the  deep  and  mellow 
voice  which  had  once  thrilled  her  to  the  heart.  In  the  pulpit 

4* 


80  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

he  was  an  angel  of  mercy ;  out  of  the  pulpit  he  was  a  boy  let 
loose  from  school. 

"  Don't  let  me  startle  you,"  he  said,  good-naturedly,  notic- 
ing her  confusion.  "  Public  opinion  has  called  me  by  harder 
names  than  the  name  of  '  Radical.'  I  have  been  spending  my 
time  lately — as  I  told  you  just  now — in  an  agricultural  dis- 
trict. My  business  there  was  to  perform  the  duty  for  the 
rector  of  the  place,  who  wanted  a  holiday.  How  do  you 
think  the  experiment  has  ended  ?  The  Squire  of  the  parish 
calls  me  a  Communist ;  the  farmers  denounce  me  as  an  Incen- 
diary ;  my  friend  the  rector  has  been  recalled  in  a  hurry,  and 
I  have  now  the  honor  of  speaking  to  you  in  the  character  of 
a  banished  man  who  has  made  a  respectable  neighborhood 
too  hot  to  hold  him." 

With  that  frank  avowal  he  left  the  luncheon-table,  and  took 
a  chair  near  Mercy. 

"  You  will  naturally  be  anxious,"  he  "went  on;  "  to  know 
what  my  offense  was.  Do  you  understand  Political  Economy 
and  the  Laws  of  Supply  and  Demand  ?" 

Mercy  owned  that  she  did  not  understand  them. 

"No  more  do  I — in  a  Christian  countiy,"he  said.  "That 
was  my  offense.  You  shall  hear  my  confession  (just  as  my 
aunt  will  hear  it)  in  two  words."  He  paused  for  a  little 
while ;  his  variable  manner  changed  again.  Mercy,  shyly 
looking  at  him,  saw  a  new  expression  in  his  eyes — an  expres- 
sion which  recalled  her  first  remembrance  of  him  as  nothing 
had  recalled  it  yet.  "  I  had  no  idea,"  he  resumed,  "  of  what 
the  life  of  a  farm-laborer  really  was,  in  some  parts  of  En- 
gland, until  I  undertook  the  rector's  duties.  Never  before 
had  I  seen  such  dire  wretchedness  as  I  saw  in  the  cottages. 
Never  before  had  I  met  with  such  noble  patience  under  suf- 
fering as  I  found  among  the  people.  The  martyrs  of  old 
could  endure,  and  die.  I  asked  myself  if  they  could  endure, 
and  live,  like  the  martyrs  whom  I  saw  round  me  ? — live,  week 
after  week,  month  after  month,  year  after  year,  on  the  brink 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  81 

of  starvation ;  live,  and  see  their  pining  children  growing  up 
round  them,  to  work  and  want  in  their  turn ;  live,  with  the 
poor  man's  parish-prison  to  look  to  as  the  end,  when  hunger 
and  labor  have  done  their  worst !  Was  God's  beautiful  earth 
made  to  hold  such  misery  as  this  ?  I  can  hardly  think  of  it, 
I  can  hardly  speak  of  it,  even  now,  with  dry  eyes !" 

His  head  sank  on  his  breast.  He  waited — mastering  his 
emotion  before  he  spoke  again.  Now,  at  last,  she  knew  him 
once  more.  Now  he  was  the  man,  indeed,  whom  she  had  ex- 
pected to  see.  Unconsciously  she  sat  listening,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  his  face,  with  her  heart  hanging  on  his  words,  in  the 
very  attitude  of  the  by-gone  day  when  she  had  heard  him  for 
the  first  time ! 

"  I  did  all  I  could  to  plead  for  the  helpless  ones,"  he  re- 
sumed. "I  went  round  among  the  holders  of  the  land  to  say 
a  word  for  the  tillers  of  the  land.  'These  patient  people 
don't  want  much '  (I  said) ;  '  in  the  name  of  Christ,  give  them 
enough  to  live  on !'  Political  Economy  shrieked  at  the  hor- 
rid proposal;  the  Laws  of  Supply  and  Demand  veiled  their 
majestic  faces  in  dismay.  Starvation  wages  were  the  right 
wages,  I  was  told.  And  why  ?  Because  the  laborer  was 
obliged  to  accept  them !  I  determined,  so  far  as  one  man 
could  do  it,  that  the  laborer  should  not  be  obliged  to  accept 
them.  I  collected  my  own  resources — I  wrote  to  my  friends 
— and  I  removed  some  of  the  poor  fellows  to  parts  of  En- 
gland where  their  work  was  better  paid.  Such  was  the  con- 
duct which  made  the  neighborhood  too  hot  to  hold  me.  So 
let  it  be !  I  mean  to  go  on.  I  am  known  in  London ;  I  can 
raise  subscriptions.  The  vile  Laws  of  Supply  and  Demand 
shall  find  labor  scarce  in  that  agricultural  district;  and  piti- 
less Political  Economy  shall  spend  a  few  extra  shillings  on 
the  poor,  as  certainly  as  I  am  that  Radical,  Communist,  and 
Incendiary — Julian  Gray  !" 

He  rose — making  a  little  gesture  of  apology  for  the  warmth 
with  which  he  had  spoken — and  took  a  turn  in  the  room. 


82  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Fired  by  his  enthusiasm,  Mercy  followed  him.  Her  purse 
was  in  her  hand,  when  he  turned  and  faced  her. 

"Pray  let  me  offer  my  little  tribute — such  as  it  is  !"  she 
said,  eagerly. 

A  momentary  flush  spread  over  his  pale  cheeks  as  he  looked 
at  the  beautiful  compassionate  face  pleading  with  him. 

"  No  !  no  !"  he  said,  smiling  ;  "  though  I  am  a  parson,  I 
don't  carry  the  begging-box  everywhere."  Mercy  attempted 
to  press  the  purse  011  him.  The  quaint  humor  began  to  twin- 
kle again  in  his  eyes  as  he  abruptly  drew  back  from  it. 
"  Don't  tempt  me  !"  he  said.  "  The  frailest  of  all  human 
creatures  is  a  clergyman  tempted  by  a  subscription."  Mercy 
persisted,  and  conquered ;  she  made  him  prove  the  truth  of 
his  own  profound  observation  of  clerical  human  nature  by  tak- 
ing a  piece  of  money  from  the  purse.  "  If  I  must  take  it — 
I  must !"  he  remarked.  "  Thank  you  for  setting  the  good 
example  !  thank  you  for  giving  the  timely  help  !  What  name 
shall  I  put  down  on  my  list  ?" 

Mercy's  eyes  looked  confusedly  away  from  him.  "  No 
name,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  My  subscription  is  anony- 
mous." 

As  she  replied,  the  library  door  opened.  To  her  infinite 
relief — to  Julian's  secret  disappointment — Lady  Janet  Roy 
and  Horace  Holmcroft  entered  the  room  together. 

"  Julian  !"  exclaimed  Lady  Janet,  holding  up  her  hands  in 
astonishment. 

He  kissed  his  aunt  on  the  cheek.  "  Your  ladyship  is  look- 
ing charmingly."  He  gave  his  hand  to  Horace.  Horace 
took  it,  and  passed  on  to  Mercy.  They  walked  away  togeth- 
er slowly  to  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Julian  seized  on  the 
chance  which  left  him  free  to  speak  privately  to  his  aunt. 

"I  came  in  through  the  conservatory,"  he  said.  "And  I 
found  that  young  lady  in  the  room.  Who  is  she  ?" 

"Are  you  very  much  interested  in  her  ?"  asked  Lady  Janet, 
in  her  gravely  ironical  way. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  83 

Julian  answered  in  one  expressive  word.  "  Indescriba- 
bly !" 

Lady  Janet  called  to  Mercy  to  join  her. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  let  me  formally  present  my  nephew 
to  you.  Julian,  this  is  Miss  Grace  Roseberry — "  She  sud- 
denly checked  herself.  The  instant  she  pronounced  the  name, 
Julian  started  as  if  it  was  a  surprise  to  him.  "What  is  it?" 
she  asked,  sharply. 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  bowing  to  Mercy,  with  a  marked 
absence  of  his  former  ease  of  manner.  She  returned  the 
courtesy  a  little  restrainedly  on  her  side.  She,  too,  had  seen 
him  start  when  Lady  Janet  mentioned  the  name  by  which  she 
was  known.  The  start  meant  something.  What  could  it  be? 
Why  did  he  turn  aside,  after  bowing  to  her,  and  address 
himself  to  Horace,  with  an  absent  look  in  his  face,  as  if  his 
thoughts  were  far  away  from  his  words  ?  A  complete  change 
had  come  over  him ;  and  it  dated  from  the  moment  when  his 
aunt  had  pronounced  the  name  that  was  not  her  name — the 
name  that  she  had  stolen ! 

Lady  Janet  claimed  Julian's  attention,  and  left  Horace  free 
to  return  to  Mercy.  "  Your  room  is  ready  for  you,"  she  said. 
"  You  will  stay  here,  of  course  ?"  Julian  accepted  the  invi- 
tation— still  with  the  air  of  a  man  whose  mind  was  preoccu- 
pied. Instead  of  looking  at  his  aunt  when  he  made  his  reply, 
he  looked  round  at  Mercy  with  a  troubled  curiosity  in  his 
face,  very  strange  to  see.  Lady  Janet  tapped  him  impatient- 
ly on  the  shoulder.  "  I  expect  people  to  look  at  me  when 
people  speak  to  me,"  she  said.  "  What  are  you  staring  at  my 
adopted  daughter  for  ?" 

"  Your  adopted  daughter  ?"  Julian  repeated — looking  at  his 
aunt  this  time,  and  looking  very  earnestly. 

"  Certainly  !  As  Colonel  Roseberry's  daughter,  she  is  con- 
nected  with  me  by  marriage  already.  Did  you  think  I  had 
picked  up  a  foundling?" 

Julian's  face  cleared ;  he  looked  relieved.     "  I  had  forgot- 


84  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

ten  the  Colonel,"  he  answered.  "  Of  course  the  young  lady 
is  related  to  us,  as  you  say." 

"  Charmed,  I  am  sure,  to  have  satisfied  you  that  Grace  is 
not  an  impostor,"  said  Lady  Janet,  with  satirical  humility. 
She  took  Julian's  arm,  and  drew  him  out  of  hearing  of  Hor- 
ace and  Mercy.  "About  that  letter  of  yours?"  she  proceed- 
ed. "  There  is  one  line  in  it  that  rouses  my  curiosity.  Who 
is  the  mysterious  '  lady '  whom  you  wish  to  present  to  me  ?" 

Julian  started,  and  changed  color. 

"  I  can't  tell  you  now,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper. 

"Why  not?" 

To  Lady  Janet's  unutterable  astonishment,  instead  of  reply- 
ing, Julian  looked  round  at  her  adopted  daughter  once  more. 

"  What  has  she  got  to  do  with  it?"  asked  the  old  lady,  out 
of  all  patience  with  him. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  tell  you," he  answered, gravely, 
"  while  Miss  Roseberry  is  in  the  room." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEWS    FROM    MANNHEIM. 

LADY  JANET'S  curiosity  was  by  this  time  thoroughly 
aroused.  Summoned  to  explain  who  the  nameless  lady  men- 
tioned in  his  letter  could  possibly  be,  Julian  had  looked  at 
her  adopted  daughter.  Asked  next  to  explain  what  her 
adopted  daughter  had  got  to  do  with  it,  he  had  declared  that 
he  could  not  answer  while  Miss  Roseberry  was  in  the  room. 

What  did  he  mean  ?     Lady  Janet  determined  to  find  out. 

"  I  hate  all  mysteries,"  she  said  to  Julian.  "  And  as  for 
secrets,  I  consider  them  to  be  one  of  the  forms  of  ill-breeding. 
People  in  our  rank  of  life  ought  to  be  above  whispering  in 
corners.  If  you  must  have  your  mystery,  I  can  offer  you  a 
corner  in  the  library.  Come  with  me." 

Julian  followed  his  aunt  very  reluctantly.     Whatever  the 


THK    NK\V    MAGDALEN.  85 

mystery  might  be,  he  was  plainly  embarrassed  by  being 
called  upon  to  reveal  it  at  a  moment's  notice.  Lady  Janet 
settled  herself  in  her  chair,  prepared  to  question  and  cross- 
question  her  nephew,  when  an  obstacle  appeared  at  the  other 
end  of  the  library,  in  the  shape  of  a  man-servant  with  a  mes- 
sage. One  of  Lady  Janet's  neighbors  had  called  by  appoint- 
ment to  take  her  to  the  meeting  of  a  certain  committee  which 
assembled  that  day.  The  servant  announced  that  the  neigh- 
bor— an  elderly  lady — was  then  waiting  in  her  carriage  at 
the  door. 

Lady  Janet's  ready  invention  set  the  obstacle  aside  with- 
out a  moment's  delay.  She  directed  the  servant  to  show  "her 
visitor  into  the  drawing-room,  and  to  say  that  she  was  un- 
expectedly engaged,  but  that  Miss  Roseberry  would  see  the 
lady  immediately.  She  then  turned  to  Julian,  and  said,  with 
her  most  satirical  emphasis  of  tone  and  manner,  "Would  it 
be  an  additional  convenience  if  Miss  Roseberry  was  not  only 
out  of  the  room  before  you  disclose  your  secret,  but  out  of 
the  house  ?" 

Julian  gravely  answered,  "  It  may  possibly  be  quite  as  well 
if  Miss  Roseberry  is  out  of  the  house." 

Lady  Janet  led  the  way  back  to  the  dining-room. 

"  My  dear  Grace,"  she  said,  "  you  looked  flushed  and  fever- 
ish when  I  saw  you  asleep  on  the  sofa  a  little  while  since.  It 
will  do  you  no  harm  to  have  a  drive  in  the  fresh  air.  Our 
friend  has  called  to  take  me  to  the  committee  meeting.  I 
have  sent  to  tell  her  that  I  am  engaged — and  I  shall  be  much 
obliged  if  you  will  go  in  my  place." 

Mercy  looked  a  little  alarmed.  "  Does  your  ladyship  mean 
the  committee  meeting  of  the  Samaritan  Convalescent  Home  ? 
The  members,  as  I  understand  it,  are  to  decide  to-day  which 
of  the  plans  for  the  new  building  they  are  to  adopt.  I  can 
not  surely  presume  to  vote  in  your  place  ?" 

"  You  can  vote,  ray  dear  child,  just  as  well  as  I  can,"  re- 
plied the  old  lady.  "Architecture  is  one  of  the  lost  arts. 


86  THK    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

You  know  nothing  about  it ;  I  know  nothing  about  it ;  tnc 
architects  themselves  know  nothing  about  it.  One  plan  is  no 
doubt  just  as  bad  as  the  other.  Vote,  as  I  should  vote,  with 
the  majority.  Or  as  poor  dear  Dr.  Johnson  said,  '  Shout 
with  the  loudest  mob.'  Away  with  you — and  don't  keep  the 
committee  waiting." 

Horace  hastened  to  open  the  door  for  Mercy. 

"  How  long  shall  you  be  away  ?"  he  whispered,  confidential- 
ly. "  I  had  a  thousand  things  to  say  to  you,  and  they  have 
interrupted  us." 

"  I  shall  be  back  in  an  hour." 

"  We  shall  have  the  room  to  ourselves  by  that  time.  Come 
here  when  you  return.  You  will  find  rue  waiting  for  you." 

Mercy  pressed  his  hand  significantly  and  went  out.  Lady 
Janet  turned  to  Julian,  who  had  thus  far  remained  in  the 
background,  still,  to  all  appearance,  as  unwilling  as  ever  to 
enlighten  his  aunt. 

"  Well  ?"  she  said.  "  What  is  tying  your  tongue  now  ? 
Grace  is  out  of  the  room ;  why  don't  you  begin  ?  Is  Hor- 
ace in  the  way  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least.     I  am  only  a  little  uneasy — " 

"  Uneasy  about  what  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  you  have  put  that  charming  creature  to  some 
inconvenience  in  sending  her  away  just  at  this  time." 

Horace  looked  up  suddenly,  with  a  flush  on  his  face. 

"  When  you  say  '  that  charming  creature,' "  he  asked, 
sharply,  "  I  suppose  you  mean  Miss  Roseberry  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  answered  Julian.     "  Why  not  ?" 

Lady  Janet  interposed.  "  Gently,  Julian,"  she  said.  "  Grace 
has  only  been  introduced  to  you  hitherto  in  the  character  of 
my  adopted  daughter — 

"And  it  seems  to  be  high  time,"  Horace  added,  haughtily, 
"that  I  should  present  her  next  in  the  character  of  my  en- 
gaged wife." 

Julian  looked  at  Horace  as  if  he  could  hardly  credit  the 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  87 

evidence  of  his  own  ears.  "  Your  wife  !"  he  exclaimed,  with 
an  irrepressible  outburst  of  disappointment  and  surprise. 

"  Yes.  My  wife,"  returned  Horace.  "  We  are  to  be  mar- 
ried in  a  fortnight.  May  I  ask,"  he  added,  with  angry  hu- 
mility, "  if  you  disapprove  of  the  marriage  ?" 

Lady  Janet  interposed  once  more.  "  Nonsense,  Horace," 
she  said.  "Julian  congratulates  you,  of  course." 

Julian  coldly  and  absently  echoed  the  words.  "  Oh  yes ! 
I  congratulate  you,  of  course." 

Lady  Janet  returned  to  the  main  object  of  the  inter- 
view. 

"  Now  we  thoroughly  understand  one  another,"  she  said, 
"  let  us  speak  of  a  lady  who  has  dropped  out  of  the  conversa- 
tion for  the  last  minute  or  two.  I  mean,  Julian,  the  mysteri- 
ous lady  of  your  letter.  We  are  alone,  as  you  desired.  Lift 
the  veil,  my  reverend  nephew,  which  hides  her  from  mortal 
eyes !  Blush,  if  you  like — and  can.  Is  she  the  future  Mrs. 
Julian  Gray?" 

"  She  is  a  perfect  stranger  to  me,"  Julian  answered,  quietly. 

"  A  perfect  stranger !  You  wrote  me  word  you  were  in- 
terested in  her." 

"  I  am  interested  in  her.  And,  what  is  more,  you  are  in- 
terested in  her  too." 

Lady  Janet's  fingers  drummed  impatiently  on  the  table. 
"  Have  I  not  warned  you,  Julian,  that  I  hate  mysteries  ?  Will 
you,  or  will  you  not,  explain  yourself?" 

Before  it  was  possible  to  answer,  Horace  rose  from  his 
chair.  "  Perhaps  I  am  in  the  way  ?"  he  said. 

Julian  signed  to  him  to  sit  down  again. 

"I  have  already  told  Lady  Janet  that  you  are  not  in  the 
way,"  he  answered.  "  I  now  tell  you — as  Miss  Roseberry's 
future  husband  —  that  you  too  have  an  interest  in  hearing 
what  I  have  to  say." 

Horace  resumed  his  seat  with  an  air  of  suspicious  surprise. 
Julian  addressed  himself  to  Lady  Janet. 


88  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"You  have  often  heard  me  speak,"  he  began,  "of  my  old 
friend  and  school-fellow,  John  Cressingham  ?" 

"  Yes.     The  English  consul  at  Mannheim  ?" 

"The  same.  When  I  returned  from  the  country  I  found 
among  my  other  letters  a  long  letter  from  the  consul.  I  have 
brought  it  with  me,  and  I  propose  to  read  certain  passages 
from  it,  which  tell  a  very  strange  story  more  plainly  and  more 
credibly  than  I  can  tell  it  in  my  own  words." 

"Will  it  be  very  long?"  inquired  Lady  Janet. looking  with 
some  alarm  at  the  closely  written  sheets  of  paper  which  her 
nephew  spread  open  before  him. 

Horace  followed  with  a  question  on  his  side. 

"You  are  sure  I  am  interested  in  it?"  he  asked.  "The 
consul  at  Mannheim  is  a  total  stranger  to  me." 

"I  answer  for  it,"  replied  Julian,  gravely,  "neither  my 
aunt's  patience  nor  yours,  Horace,  will  be  thrown  away  if  you 
will  favor  me  by  listening  attentively  to  what  I  am  about  to 
read." 

With  those  words  he  began  his  first  extract  from  the  con- 
sul's letter. 

*  *  *  " '  My  memory  is  a  bad  one  for  dates.  But  full  three 
months  must  have  passed  since  information  was  sent  to  me  of 
an  English  patient,  received  at  the  hospital  here,  whose  case 
I,  as  English  consul,  might  feel  an  interest  in  investigating. 

" '  I  went  the  same  day  to  the  hospital,  and  was  taken  to 
the  bedside. 

" '  The  patient  was  a  woman — young,  and  (when  in  health), 
I  should  think,  very  pretty.  When  I  first  saw  her  she  looked, 
to  my  uninstructed  eye,  like  a  dead  woman.  I  noticed  that 
her  head  had  a  bandage  over  it,  and  I  asked  what  was  the 
nature  of  the  injury  that  she  had  received.  The  answer  in- 
formed me  that  the  poor  creature  had  been  present,  nobody 
knew  why  or  wherefore,  at  a  skirmish  or  night  attack  between 
the  Germans  and  the  French,  and  that  the  injury  to  her  head 
had  been  inflicted  by  a  fragment  of  a  German  shell.' " 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  89 

Horace — thus  far  leaning  back  carelessly  in  his  chair — sud- 
denly raised  himself  and  exclaimed,  "  Good  heavens  !  can  this 
be  the  woman  I  saw  laid  out  for  dead  in  the  French  cottage?" 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  say,"  replied  Julian.  "  Listen 
to  the  rest  of  it.  The  consul's  letter  may  answer  your  ques- 
tion." 

He  went  on  with  his  reading: 

" (  The  wounded  woman  had  been  reported  dead,  and  had 
been  left  by  the  French  in  their  retreat,  at  the  time  when  the 
German  forces  took  possession  of  the  enemy's  position.  She 
was  found  on  a  bed  in  a  cottage  by  the  director  of  the  Ger- 
man ambulance — ' " 

"Ignatius  Wetzel?"  cried  Horace. 

"  Ignatius  Wetzel,"  repeated  Julian,  looking  at  the  letter. 

"  It  is  the  same  !"  said  Horace.  "  Lady  Janet,  we  are  real- 
ly interested  in  this.  You  remember  my  telling  you  how  I 
first  met  with  Grace?  And  you  have  heard  more  about  it 
since,  no  doubt,  from  Grace  herself?" 

"  She  has  a  horror  of  referring  to  that  part  of  her  journey 
home,"  replied  Lady  Janet.  "  She  mentioned  her  having  been 
stopped  on  the  frontier,  and  her  finding  herself  accidentally  in 
the  company  of  another  Englishwoman,  a  perfect  stranger  to 
her.  I  naturally  asked  questions  on  my  side,  and  was  shock- 
ed to  hear  that  she  had  seen  the  woman  killed  by  a  German 
shell  almost  close  at  her  side.  Neither  she  nor  I  have  had 
any  relish  for  returning  to  the  subject  since.  You  were  quite 
right,  Julian,  to  avoid  speaking  of  it  while  she  was  in  the 
room.  I  understand  it  all  now.  Grace,  I  suppose,  mentioned 
my  name  to  her  fellow-traveler.  The  woman  is,  no  doubt,  in 
want  of  assistance,  and  she  applies  to  me  through  you.  I  will 
help  her;  but  she  must  not  come  here  until  I  have  prepared 
Grace  for  seeing  her  again,  a  living  woman.  For  the  present 
there  is  no  reason  why  they  should  meet." 

"  I  am  not  sure  about  that,"  said  Julian,  in  low  tones,  with- 
out looking  up  at  his  aunt. 


90  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?     Is  the  mystery  not  at  an  end  yet  ?r 

"  The  mystery  has  not  even  begun  yet.  Let  my  friend  the 
consul  proceed." 

Julian  returned  for  the  second  time  to  his  extract  from  the 
letter : 

" '  After  a  careful  examination  of  the  supposed  corpse,  the 
German  surgeon  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  a  case  of  sus- 
pended animation  had  (in  the  hurry  of  the  French  retreat) 
been  mistaken  for  a  case  of  death.  Feeling  a  professional 
interest  in  the  subject,  he  decided  on  putting  his  opinion  to 
the  test.  He  operated  on  the  patient  with  complete  success. 
After  performing  the  operation  he  kept  her  for  some  days 
under  his  own  care,  and  then  transferred  her  to  the  nearest 
hospital — the  hospital  at  Mannheim.  He  was  obliged  to  re- 
turn to  his  duties  as  army  surgeon,  and  he  left  his  patient  in 
the  condition  in  which  I  saw  her,  insensible  on  the  bed. 
Neither  he  nor  the  hospital  authorities  knew  any  thing  what- 
ever about  the  woman.  No  papers  were  found  on  her.  All 
the  doctors  could  do,  when  I  asked  them  for  information  with 
a  view  to  communicating  with  her  friends,  was  to  show  me 
her  linen  marked  with  her  name.  I  left  the  hospital  after 
taking  down  the  name  in  my  pocket-book.  It  was  "Mercy 
Merrick.'"" 

Lady  Janet  produced  her  pocket-book.  "  Let  me  take  the 
name  down  too,"  she  said.  "  I  never  heard  it  before,  and  I 
might  otherwise  forget  it.  Go  on,  Julian." 

Julian  advanced  to  his  second  extract  from  the  consul's 
letter : 

" '  Under  these  circumstances,  I  could  only  wait  to  hear 
from  the  hospital  when  the  patient  was  sufficiently  recovered 
to  be  able  to  speak  to  me.  Some  weeks  passed  without  my 
receiving  any  communication  from  the  doctors.  On  calling 
to  make  inquiries  I  was  informed  that  fever  had  set  in,  and 
that  the  poor  creature's  condition  now  alternated  between  ex- 
haustion and  delirium.  In  her  delirious  moments  the  name 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  91 

of  your  aunt,  Lady  Janet  Roy,  frequently  escaped  her.  Oth- 
erwise her  wanderings  were  for  the  most  part  quite  unintelli- 
gible to  the  people  at  her  bedside.  I  thought  once  or  twice 
of  writing  to  you,  and  of  begging  you  to  speak  to  Lady  Janet. 
But  as  the  doctors  informed  me  that  the  chances  of  life  or 
death  were  at  this  time  almost  equally  balanced,  I  decided  to 
wait  until  time  should  determine  whether  it  was  necessary  to 
trouble  you  or  not.' " 

"  You  know  best,  Julian,"  said  Lady  Janet.  "  But  I  own  I 
don't  quite  see  in  what  way  I  am  interested  in  this  part  of 
the  story." 

"  Just  what  I  was  going  to  say,"  added  Horace.  "  It  is 
very  sad, no  doubt.  But  what  have  we  to  do  with  it?" 

"  Let  me  read  my  third  extract,"  Julian  answered,  "  and 
you  will  see." 

He  turned  to  the  third  extract,  and  read  as  follows : 

" '  At  last  I  received  a  message  from  the  hospital  informing 
me  that  Mercy  Merrick  was  out  of  danger,  and  that  she  was 
capable  (though  still  very  weak)  of  answering  any  questions 
which  I  might  think  it  desirable  to  put  to  her.  On  reaching 
the  hospital,  I  was  requested,  rather  to  my  surprise,  to  pay 
my  first  visit  to  the  head  physician  in  his  private  room.  "  I 
think  it  right,"  said  this  gentleman, "  to  warn  you,  before  you 
see  the  patient,  to  be  very  careful  how  you  speak  to  her,  and 
not  to  irritate  her  by  showing  any  surprise  or  expressing  any 
doubts  if  she  talks  to  you  in  an  extravagant  manner.  We 
differ  in  opinion  about  her  here.  Some  of  us  (myself  among 
the  number)  doubt  whether  the  recovery  of  her  mind  has  ac- 
companied the  recovery  of  her  bodily  powers.  Without  pro- 
nouncing her  to  be  mad — she  is  perfectly  gentle  and  harm- 
less— we  are  nevertheless  of  opinion  that  she  is  suffering  un- 
der a  species  of  insane  delusion.  Bear  in  mind  the  caution 
which  I  have  given  you — and  now  go  and  judge  for  your- 
self." I  obeyed,  in  some  little  perplexity  and  surprise.  The 
sufferer,  when  I  approached  her  bed,  looked  sadly  weak  and 


92  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

worn;  but, so  far  as  I  could  judge, seemed  to  be  in  full  pos- 
session of  herself.  Her  tone  and  manner  were  unquestiona- 
bly the  tone  and  manner  of  a  lady.  After  briefly  introducing 
myself,  I  assured  her  that  I  should  be  glad,  both  officially 
and  personally,  if  I  could  be  of  any  assistance  to  her.  In  say- 
ing these  trifling  words  I  happened  to  address  her  by  the 
name  I  had  seen  marked  on  her  clothes.  The  instant  the 
words  "  Miss  Merrick  "  passed  my  lips  a  wild,  vindictive  ex- 
pression appeared  in  her  eyes.  She  exclaimed  angrily, "  Don't 
call  me  by  that  hateful  name !  It's  not  my  name.  All  the 
people  here  persecute  me  by  calling  me  Mercy  Merrick.  And 
when  I  am  angry  with  them  they  show  me  the  clothes.  Say 
what  I  may,  they  persist  in  believing  they  are  my  clothes. 
Don't  you  do  the  same,  if  you  want  to  be  friends  with  me." 
Remembering  what  the  physician  had  said  to  me,  I  made  the 
necessary  excuses,  and  succeeded  in  soothing  her.  Without 
reverting  to  the  irritating  topic  of  the  name,  I  merely  in- 
quired what  her  plans  were,  and  assured  her  that  she  might 
command  my  services  if  she  requii-ed  them.  "  Why  do  you 
want  to  know  what  my  plans  are  ?"  she  asked,  suspiciously. 
I  reminded  her  in  reply  that  I  held  the  position  of  English 
consul,  and  that  my  object  was,  if  possible,  to  be  of  some  as- 
sistance to  her.  "  You  can  be  of  the  greatest  assistance  to 
me,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "  Find  Mercy  Merrick  !"  I  saw  the 
vindictive  look  come  back  into  her  eyes,  and  an  angry  flush 
rising  on  her  white  cheeks.  Abstaining  from  showing  any 
surprise,!  asked  her  who  Mercy  Merrick  was.  "A  vile  wom- 
an, by  her  own  confession,"  was  the  quick  reply.  "  How  am 
I  to  find  her  ?"  I  inquired  next.  "  Look  for  a  woman  in  a 
black  dress,  with  the  Red  Geneva  Cross  on  her  shoulder ; 
she  is  a  nurse  in  the  French  ambulance."  "  What  has  she 
done?"  "  I  have  lost  my  papers ;  I  have  lost  my  own  clothes ; 
Mercy  Merrick  has  taken  them."  "  How  do  you  know  that 
Mercy  Merrick  has  taken  them  ?"  "  Nobody  else  could  have 
taken  them — that's  how  I  know  it.  Do  you  believe  me  or 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  93 

not  ?"  She  was  beginning  to  excite  herself*again  ;  I  assured 
her  that  I  would  at  once  send  to  make  inquiries  after  Mer 
cy  Merrick.  She  turned  round  contented  on  the  pillow. 
"  There's  a  good  man !"  she  said.  "  Come  back  and  tell  me 
when  you  have  caught  her."  Such  was  my  first  interview 
with  the  English  patient  at  the  hospital  at  Mannheim.  It  is 
needless  to  say  that  I  doubted  the  existence  of  the  absent 
person  described  as  a  nurse.  However,  it  was  possible  to  make 
inquiries  by  applying  to  the  surgeon,  Ignatius  Wetzel,  whose 
whereabouts  was  known  to  his  friends  in  Mannheim.  I  wrote 
to  him,  and  received  his  answer  in  due  time.  After  the  night 
attack  of  the  Germans  had  made  them  masters  of  the  French 
position,  he  had  entered  the  cottage  occupied  by  the  French 
ambulance.  He  had  found  the  wounded  PYenchmen  left  be- 
hind, but  had  seen  no  such  person  in  attendance  on  them  as 
the  nurse  in  the  black  dress  with  the  red  cross  on  her  shoul- 
der. The  only  living  woman  in  the  place  was  a  young  En- 
glish lady,  in  a  gray  traveling  cloak,  who  had  been  stopped  on 
the  frontier,  and  who  was  forwarded  on  her  way  home  by  the 
war  correspondent  of  an  English  journal.'  " 

"  That  was  Grace,"  said  Lady  Janet. 

"And  I  was  the  war  correspondent,"  added  Horace. 

"A  few  words  more,"  said  Julian,  "and  you  will  under- 
stand my  object  in  claiming  your  attention." 

He  returned  to  the  letter  for  the  last  time,  and  concluded 
his  extracts  from  it  as  follows : 

" '  Instead  of  attending  at  the  hospital  myself,  I  communi- 
cated by  letter  the  failure  of  my  attempt  to  discover  the 
missing  nurse.  For  some  little  time  afterward  I  heard  no 
more  of  the  sick  woman,  whom  I  shall  still  call  Mercy  Mer- 
rick. It  was  only  yesterday  that  I  received  another  sum- 
mons to  visit  the  patient.  She  had  by  this  time  sufficiently 
recovered  to  claim  her  discharge,  and  she  had  announced  her 
intention  of  returning  forthwith  to  England.  The  head  phy- 
sician, feeling  a  sense  of  responsibility,  had  sent  for  me.  It 


94  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

was  impossible  to  detain  her  on  the  ground  that  she  was  not 
fit  to  be  trusted  by  herself  at  large,  in  consequence  of  the  dif- 
ference of  opinion  among  the  doctors  on  the  case.  All  that 
could  be  done  was  to  give  me  due  notice,  and  to  leave  the 
matter  in  my  hands.  On  seeing  her  for  the  second  time,  I 
found  her  sullen  and  reserved.  She  openly  attributed  my  in- 
ability to  find  the  nurse  to  want  of  zeal  for  her  interests  on 
my  part.  I  had,  on  my  side,  no  authority  whatever  to  detain 
her.  I  could  only  inquire  whether  she  had  money  enough  to 
pay  her  traveling  expenses.  Her  reply  informed  me  that  the 
chaplain  of  the  hospital  had  mentioned  her  forlorn  situation 
in  the  town,  and  that  the  English  residents  had  subscribed  a 
small  sum  of  money  to  enable  her  to  return  to  her  own  coun- 
try. Satisfied  on  this  head,  I  asked  next  if  she  had  friends  to 
go  to  in  England.  "  I  have  one  friend,"  she  answered, "  who 
is  a  host  in  herself — Lady  Janet  Roy."  You  may  imagine 
my  surprise  when  I  heard  this.  I  found  it  quite  useless  to 
make  any  further  inquiries  as  to  how  she  came  to  know  your 
aunt,  whether  your  aunt  expected  her,  and  so  on.  My  ques- 
tions evidently  offended  her;  they  were  received  in  sulky  si- 
lence. Under  these  circumstances,  well  knowing  that  I  can 
trust  implicitly  to  your  humane  sympathy  for  misfortune,  I 
have  decided  (after  careful  reflection)  to  insure  the  poor  crea- 
ture's safety  when  she  arrives  in  London  by  giving  her  a  let- 
ter to  you.  You  will  hear  what  she  says,  and  you  will  be 
better  able  to  discover  than  I  am  whether  she  really  has  any 
claim  on  Lady  Janet  Roy.  One  last  word  of  information, 
which  it  may  be  necessary  to  add,  and  I  shall  close  this  inor- 
dinately long  letter.  At  my  first  interview  with  her  I  ab- 
stained, as  I  have  already  told  you,  from  irritating  her  by  any 
inquiries  on  the  subject  of  her  name.  On  this  second  occa- 
sion, however,  I  decided  on  putting  the  question.' " 

As  he  read  those  last  words,  Julian  became  aware  of  a  sud- 
den movement  on  the  part  of  his  aunt.  Lady  Janet  had  risen 
softly  from  her  chair  and  had  passed  behind  him  with  the 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEX.  95 

purpose  of  reading  the  consul's  letter  for  herself  over  her 
nephew's  shoulder.  Julian  detected  the  action  just  in  time 
to  frustrate  Lady  Janet's  intention  by  placing  his  hand  over 
the  last  two  lines  of  the  letter. 

"  What  do  you  do  that  for  ?"  inquired  his  aunt,  sharply. 

"  You  are  welcome,  Lady  Janet,  to  read  the  close  of  the  let- 
ter for  yourself,"  Julian  replied.  "  But  before  you  do  so  I  am 
anxious  to  prepare  you  for  a  very  great  surprise.  Compose 
yourself,  and  let  me  read  on  slowly,  with  your  eye  on  me, 
until  I  uncover  the  last  two  words  which  close  my  friend's 
letter." 

He  read  the  end  of  the  letter,  as  he  had  proposed,  in  these 
terms : 

" '  I  looked  the  woman  straight  in  the  face,  and  I  said  to 
her, "  You  have  denied  that  the  name  marked  on  the  clothes 
which  you  wore  when  you  came  here  was  your  name.  If 
you  are  not  Mercy  Merrick,  who  are  you  ?"  She  answered, 
instantly,  "  My  name  is — 

Julian  removed  his  hand  from  the  page.  Lady  Janet  look- 
ed at  the  next  two  words,  and  started  back  with  a  loud  cry 
of  astonishment,  which  brought  Horace  instantly  to  his  feet. 

"  Tell  me,  one  of  you  !"  he  cried.  "  What  name  did  she 
give  ?" 

Julian  told  him. 

"  GRACE  ROSEBERRY." 


CHAPTER  X. 

A    COUNCIL    OF   THREE. 

FOR  a  moment  Horace  stood  thunderstruck,  looking  in 
blank  astonishment  at  Lady  Janet.  His  first  words,  as  soon 
as  he  had  recovered  himself,  were  addressed  to  Julian. 

"  Is  this  a  joke  ?"  he  asked,  sternly.  "  If  it  is,  I  for  one 
don't  see  the  humor  of  it." 


96  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Julian  pointed  to  the  closely  written  pages  of  the  consul's 
letter.  "A  man  writes  in  earnest,"  he  said,  "  when  he  writes 
at  such  length  as  this.  The  woman  seriously  gave  the  name 
of  Grace  Roseberry,  and  when  she  left  Mannheim  she  travel- 
ed to  England  for  the  express  purpose  of  presenting  herself 
to  Lady  Janet  Roy."  He  turned  to  his  aunt.  "  You  saw  me 
start,"  he  went  on,"  when  you  first  mentioned  Miss  Roseber- 
ry's  name  in  my  hearing.  Now  you  know  why."  He  ad- 
dressed himself  once  more  to  Horace.  "  You  heard  me  say 
that  you,  as  Miss  Roseberry's  future  husband,  had  an  inter- 
est in  being  present  at  my  interview  with  Lady  Janet.  Now 
you  know  why." 

"  The  woman  is  plainly  mad,"  said  Lady  Janet.  "  But  it 
is  certainly  a  startling  form  of  madness  when  one  first  hears 
of  it.  Of  course  we  must  keep  the  matter,  for  the  present 
at  least,  a  secret  from  Grace." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,"  Horace  agreed,  "  that  Grace 
must  be  kept  in  the  dark,  in  her  present  state  of  health.  The 
servants  had  better  be  warned  beforehand,  in  case  of  this  fid 
venturess  or  madwoman,  whichever  she  may  be,  attempting  to 
make  her  way  into  the  house." 

"  It  shall  be  done  immediately,"  said  Lady  Janet.  "  What 
surprises  me,  Julian  (ring  the  bell,  if  you  please),  is  that  you 
should  describe  yourself  in  your  letter  as  feeling  an  interest 
in  this  person." 

Julian  answered — without  ringing  the  bell. 

"I  am  more  interested  than  ever,"  he  said,  "now  I  find 
that  Miss  Roseberry  herself  is  your  guest  at  Mablethorpe 
House." 

"  You  were  always  perverse,  Julian,  as  a  child,  in  your  lik- 
ings and  dislikings,"  Lady  Janet  rejoined.  "  Why  don't 
you  ring  the  bell  ?" 

"  For  one  good  reason,  my  dear  aunt.  I  don't  wish  to 
hear  you  tell  your  servants  to  close  the  door  on  this  friend- 
less creature." 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  97 

Lady  Janet  cast  a  look  at  her  nephew  which  plainly  ex 
pressed  that  she  thought  lie  had  taken  a  liberty  with  her. 

"  You  don't  expect  me  to  see  the  woman  ?"  she  asked,  in  a 
tone  of  cold  surprise. 

"  I  hope  you  will  not  refuse  to  see  her,"  Julian  answered, 
quietly.  "  I  was  out  when  she  called.  I  must  hear  what  she 
has  to  say — and  I  should  infinitely  prefer  hearing  it  in  your 
presence.  When  T  got  your  reply  to  my  letter,  permitting 
me  to  present  her  to  you,  I  wrote  to  her  immediately,  appoint- 
ing a  meeting  here."  * 

Lady  Janet  lifted  her  bright  black  eyes  in  mute  expostu- 
lation to  the  carved  Cupids  and  wreaths  on  the  dining-room 
ceiling. 

"  When  am  I  to  have  the  honor  of  the  lady's  visit?"  she 
inquired,  with  ironical  resignation. 

"  To-day,"  answered  her  nephew,  with  impenetrable  patience. 

"At  what  hour?" 

Julian  composedly  consulted  his  watch.  "She  is  ten  min- 
ut"s  after  her  time,"  he  said,  and  put  his  watch  back  in  his 
pocket  again. 

At  the  same  moment  the  servant  appeared,  and  advanced 
to  Julian,  carrying  a  visiting-card  on  his  little  silver  tray. 

"  A  lady  to  see  you,  sir." 

Julian  took  the  card,  and,  bowing,  handed  it  to  his  aunt. 

"  Here  she  is,"  he  said,  just  as  quietly  as  ever. 

Lady  Janet  looked  at  the  card,  and  tossed  it  indignant- 
ly back  to  her  nephew.  "  Miss  Roseberry  !"  she  exclaimed. 
"  Printed — actually  printed  on  her  cai'd !  Julian,  even  MY 
patience  has  its  limits.  I  refuse  to  see  her  !" 

The  servant  was  still  waiting — not  like  a  human  being  who 
took  an  interest  in  the  proceedings,  but  (as  became  a  perfect- 
ly bred  footman)  like  an  article  of  furniture  artfully  construct- 
ed to  come  and  <jf<>  at  the  word  of  command.  Julian  gave 
the  word  of  command,  addressing  the  admirably  constructed 
automaton  by  the  name  of  "James." 


98  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"Where  is  the  lady  now?" he  asked. 

"  In  the  breakfast^room,  sir." 

"Leave  her  there,  if  you  please,  and  wait  outside  within 
hearing  of  the  bell." 

The  legs  of  the  furniture-footman  acted,  and  took  him 
noiselessly  out  of  the  room.  Julian  turned  to  his  aunt. 

"Forgive  me," he  said, "for  venturing  to  give  the  man  his 
orders  iji  your  presence.  I  am  very  anxious  that  you  should 
not  decide  hastily.  Surely  we  ought  to  hear  what  this  lady 
has  to  say  ?" 

Horace  dissented  widely  from  his  friend's  opinion.  "It's 
an  insult  to  Grace,"  he  broke  out,  warmly, "  to  hear  what  she 
has  to  say !" 

Lady  Janet  nodded  her  head  in  high  approval.  "I  think 
so  too,"  said  her  ladyship,  crossing  her  handsome  old  hands 
resolutely  on  her  lap. 

Julian  applied  himself  to  answering  Horace  first. 

"  Pardon  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have  no  intention  of  presuming 
to  reflect  on  Miss  Roseberry,  or  of  bringing  her  into  the  mat- 
ter at  all. — The  consul's  letter,"  he  went  on,  speaking  to  his 
aunt, "  mentions,  if  you  remember,  that  the  medical  authorities 
of  Mannheim  were  divided  in  opinion  on  their  patient's  case. 
Some  of  them — the  physician-in-chief  being  among  the  num- 
ber— believe  that  the  recovery  of  her  mind  has  not  accom- 
panied the  recovery  of  her  body." 

"In  other  words,"  Lady  Janet  remarked, "a  mad\voman  is 
in  my  house,  and  I  am  expected  to  receive  her !" 

"  Don't  let  us  exaggerate,"  said  Julian,  gently.  "  It  can 
serve  no  good  interest,  in  this  serious  matter,  to  exaggerate 
any  thing.  The  consul  assures  us,  on  the  authority  of  the 
doctor,  that  she  is  perfectly  gentle  and  harmless.  If  she  is 
really  the  victim  of  a  mental  delusion,  the  poor  creature  is 
surely  an  object  of  compassion,  and  she  ought  to  Vie  placed 
under  proper  care.  Ask  your  own  kind  heart,  my  dear  aunt, 
if  it  would  not  be  downright  cruelty  to  turn  this  forlorn 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  99 

woman  adrift  in  the  world  without  making  some  inquiry 
first/' 

Lady  Janet's  inbred  sense  of  justice  admitted — not  over 
willingly — the  reasonableness  as  well  as  the  humanity  of  the 
view  expressed  in  those  words.  "  There  is  some  truth  in 
that,  Julian,"  she  said,  shifting  her  position  uneasily  in  her 
chair,  and  looking  at  Horace.  "  Don't  you  think  so  too  ?" 
she  added. 

"  I  can't  say  I  do,"  answered  Horace,  in  the  positive  tone 
of  a  man  whose  obstinacy  is  proof  against  every  form  of  ap- 
peal that  can  be  addressed  to  him. 

The  patience  of  Julian  was  firm  enough  to  be  a  match  for 
the  obstinacy  of  Horace.  "At  any  rate,"  he  resumed,  with 
undiminished  good  temper,  "  we  are  all  three  equally  inter- 
ested in  setting  this  matter  at  rest.  I  put  it  to  you,  Lady 
Janet,  if  we  are  not  favored,  at  this  lucky  moment,  with  the 
very  opportunity  that  we  want  ?  Miss  Roseberry  is  not  only 
out  of  the  room,  but  out  of  the  house.  If  we  let  this  chance 
slip,  who  can  say  what  awkward  accident  may  not  happen  iu 
the  course  of  the  next  few  days  ?" 

"  Let  the  woman  come  in,"  cried  Lady  Janet,  deciding 
headlong,  with  her  customary  impatience  of  all  delay.  "At 
once,  Julian — before  Grace  can  come  back.  Will  you  ring 
the  bell  this  time  ?" 

This  time  Julian  rang  it.  "May  I  give  the  man  his  or- 
ders ?"  he  respectfully  inquired  of  his  aunt. 

"  Give  him  any  thing  you  like,  and  have  done  with  it !"  re- 
tort ed  the  irritable  old  lady,  getting  briskly  on  her  feet,  and 
taking  a  turn  in  the  room  to  compose  herself. 

The  servant  withdrew,  with  orders  to  show  the  visitor  in. 

Horace  crossed  the  room  at  the  same  time — apparently  with 
the  intention  of  leaving  it  by  the  door  at  the  opposite  end. 

"  You  are  not  going  away  ?"  exclaimed  Lady  Janet. 

"  I  see  no  use  in  my  remaining  here,"  replied  Horace,  not 
very  graciously. 


100  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"  In  that  case,"  retorted  Lady  Janet,  "  remain  here  because 
I  wish  it." 

"Certainly — if  you  wish  it.  Only  remember,"  he  added, 
more  obstinately  than  ever,  "  that  I  differ  entirely  from  Ju- 
lian's view.  In  my  opinion  the  woman  has  no  claim  on  us." 

A  passing  movement  of  irritation  escaped  Julian  for  the 
first  time.  "Don't  be  hard, Horace,"  he  said, sharply.  "All 
women  have  a  claim  on  us." 

They  had  unconsciously  gathered  together,  in  the  heat  of 
the  little  debate,  turning  their  backs  on  the  library  door.  At 
the  last  words  of  the  reproof  administered  by  Julian  to  Hoi1- 
ace,  their  attention  was  recalled  to  passing  events  by  the 
slight  noise  produced  by  the  opening  and  closing  of  the  door. 
With  one  accord  the  three  turned  and  looked  in  the  direction 
from  which  the  sounds  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XL 

THE     DEAD     ALIVE. 

JUST  inside  the  door  there  appeared  the  figure  of  a  small 
woman  dressed  in  plain  and  poor  black  garments.  She  si- 
lently lifted  her  black  net  veil,  and  disclosed  a  dull,  pale,  worn, 
weary  face.  The  forehead  was  low  and  broad ;  the  eyes 
were  unusually  far  apart ;  the  lower  features  were  remarka- 
bly small  and  delicate.  In  health  (as  the  consul  at  Mannheim 
had  remarked)  this  woman  must  have  possessed,  if  not  abso- 
lute beauty,  at  least  rare  attractions  peculiarly  her  own.  As 
it  was  now,  suffering — sullen,  silent,  self-contained  suffering — 
had  marred  its  beauty.  Attention  and  even  curiosity  it  might 
still  rouse.  Admiration  or  interest  it  could  excite  no  longer. 

The  small,  thin,  black  figure  stood  immovably  inside  the 
door.  The  dull,  worn,  white  face  looked  silently  at  the  three 
persons  in  the  room. 

The  three  persons  in  the  room,  on  their  side,  stood  for  a 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  101 

moment  without  moving,  and  looked  silently  at  the  stranger 
on  the  threshold.  There  was  something,  either  in  the  woman 
herself,  or  in  the  sudden  and  stealthy  manner  of  her  appear- 
ance in  the  room,  which  froze,  as  if  with  the  touch  of  an  in- 
visible cold  hand,  the  sympathies  of  all  three.  Accustomed 
to  the  world,  habitually  at  their  ease  in  every  social  emergen- 
cy, they  were  now  silenced  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives  by 
the  first  serious  sense  of  embarrassment  which  they  had  felt 
since  they  were  children  in  the  presence  of  a  stranger. 

Had  the  appearance  of  the  true  Grace  Roseberry  aroused 
in  their  minds  a  suspicion  of  the  woman  who  had  stolen  her 
name,  and  taken  her  place  in  the  house  ? 

Not  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  a  suspicion  of  Mercy  was  at 
the  bottom  of  the  strange  sense  of  uneasiness  which  had  now 
deprived  them  alike  of  their  habitual  courtesy  and  their  ha- 
bitual presence  of  mind.  It  was  as  practically  impossible  for 
any  one  of  the  three  to  doubt  the  identity  of  the  adopted 
daughter  of  the  house  as  it  would  be  for  you  who  read  these 
lines  to  doubt  the  identity  of  the  nearest  and  dearest  relative 
you  have  in  the  world.  Circumstances  had  fortified  Mercy 
behind  the  strongest  of  all  natural  rights — the  right  of  first 
possession.  Circumstances  had  armed  her  with  the  most  ir- 
resistible of  all  natural  forces — the  force  of  previous  associa- 
tion and  previous  habit.  Not  by  so  much  as  a  hair-breadth 
WMS  the  position  of  the  false  (Trace  Roseberry  shaken  by  the 
first  appearance  of  the  true  Grace  Roseberry  within  the  doors 
of  Mablethorpe  House.  Lady  Janet  felt  suddenly  repelled, 
without  knowing  why.  Julian  and  Horace  felt  suddenly  re- 
pelled, without  knowing  why.  Aske<  to  describe  their  own 
sensations  at  the  moment,  they  would  have  shaken  their  heads 
in  despair,  and  would  have  answered  in  those  words.  The 
vague  presentiment  of  some  misfortune  to  come  had  entered 
the  room  with  the  entrance  of  the  woman  in  black.  But  it 
moved  invisibly ;  and  it  spoke,  as  all  presentiments  speak,  in 
the-  Unknown  Tongue. 

6* 


102  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

A  moment  passed.  The  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the  tick- 
ing of  the  clock  were  the  only  sounds  audible  in  the  room. 

The  voice  of  the  visitor — hard,  clear,  and  quiet — was  the 
first  voice  that  broke  the  silence. 

"Mr.  Julian  Gray?"  she  said,  looking  interrogatively  from 
one  of  the  two  gentlemen  to  the  other. 

Julian  advanced  a  few  steps,  instantly  recovering  his  self 
possession.  "  I  am  sorry  I  was  not  at  home,"  he  said,  "  when 
you  called  with  your  letter  from  the  consul.  Pray  take  a 
chair." 

By  way  of  setting  the  example,  Lady  Janet  seated  herself 
at  some  little  distance,  with  Horace  in  attendance  standing 
near.  She  bowed  to  the  stranger  with  studious  politeness, 
but  without  uttering  a  word,  before  she  settled  herself  in  her 
chair.  "  I  am  obliged  to  listen  to  this  person,"  thought  the 
old  lady.  "  But  I  am  not  obliged  to  speak  to  her.  That  is 
Julian's  business  —  not  mine.  Don't  stand,  Horace !  You 
fidget  me.  Sit  down."  Armed  beforehand  in  her  policy  of 
silence,  Lady  Janet  folded  her  handsome  hands  as  usual,  and 
waited  for  the  proceedings  to  begin,  like  a  judge  on  the  bench. 

"Will  you  take  a  chair?"  Julian  repeated,  observing  that 
the  visitor  appeared  neither  to  heed  nor  to  hear  his  first  words 
of  welcome  to  her. 

At  this  second  appeal  she  spoke  to  him.  "Is  that  Lady 
Janet  Roy?"  she  asked,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  mistress  of 
the  house. 

Julian  answered,  and  drew  back  to  watch  the  result. 

The  woman  in  the  poor  black  garments  changed  her  posi- 
tion for  the  first  time.  She  moved  slowly  across  the  room 
to  the  place  at  which  Lady  Janet  was  sitting,  and  addressed 
her  respectfully  with  perfect  self-possession  of  manner.  Her 
whole  demeanor,  from  the  moment  when  she  had  appeared  at 
the  door,  had  expressed — at  once  plainly  and  becomingly — • 
confidence  in  the  reception  that  awaited  her. 

"Almost  the  last  words  my  father  said  to  me  on  his  death- 


THE     NK\V    MAiiDALEX.  103 

bed,"  she  began,  "  were  words,  madam,  which  told  me  to  ex- 
pect protection  and  kindness  from  you." 

It  was  not  Lady  Janet's  business  to  speak.  She  listened 
with  the  blandest  attention.  She  waited  with  the  most  exas- 
peratii.g  silence  to  hear  more. 

Grace  Roseberry  drew  back  a  step — not  intimidated — only 
mortified  and  surprised.  "  Was  my  father  wrong?"  she  ask- 
ed, with  a  simple  dignity  of  tone  and  manner  which  forced 
Lady  Janet  to  abandon  her  policy  of  silence,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Who  was  your  father?"  she  asked,  coldly. 

Grace  Roseberry  answered  the  question  in  a  tone  of  stern 
surprise. 

"Has  the  servant  not  given  you  my  card?"  she  said. 
"Don't  you  know  my  name?" 

"Which  of  your  names?"  rejoined  Lady  Janet. 

"I  don't  understand  your  ladyship." 

"  I  will  make  myself  understood.  You  asked  me  if  I  knew 
your  name.  I  ask  you,  in  return,  which  name  it  is?  The 
name  on  your  card  is  '  Miss  Roseberry.'  The  name  marked 
on  your  clothes,  when  you  were  in  the  hospital,  was  '  Mercy 
Merrick.'  ' 

The  self-possession  which  Grace  had  maintained  from  the 
moment  when  she  had  entered  the  dining  room,  seemed  now, 
for  the  first  time,  to  be  on  the  point  of  failing  her.  She  turn- 
ed, and  looked  appealingly  at  Julian,  who  had  thus  far  kept 
his  place  apart,  listening  attentively. 

"  Surely,"  she  said, "  your  friend,  the  consul,  has  told  you  in 
his  letter  about  the  mark  on  the  clothes?" 

Something  of  the  girlish  hesitation  and  timidity  which  had 
marked  her  demeanor  at  her  interview  with  Mercy  in  the 
French  cottage  re-appeared  in  her  tone  and  manner  as  she 
spoke  those  words.  The  changes  —  mostly  changes  for  the 
\\i>rse  -wrought  in  her  by  the  suffering  through  which  she 
had  passed  since  that  time,  were  now  (for  the  moment)  ef- 
taced.  All  that  was  left  of  the  better  and  simpler  side  of  her 


104  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

character  asserted  itself  in  her  brief  appeal  to  Julian.  She 
had  hitherto  repelled  him.  He  began  to  feel  a  certain  com- 
passionate interest  in  her  now. 

"  The  consul  has  informed  me  of  what  you  said  to  him,"  he 
answered,  kindly.  "  But,  if  you  will  take  my  advice,  I  recom- 
mend you  to  tell  your  story  to  Lady  Janet  in  your  own  words." 

Grace  again  addressed  herself  with  submissive  reluctance 
to  Lady  Janet. 

"  The  clothes  your  ladyship  speaks  of,"  she  said,  "  were  the 
clothes  of  another  woman.  The  rain  was  pouring  when  the 
soldiers  detained  me  on  the  frontier.  I  had  been  exposed  for 
hours  to  the  weather — I  was  wet  to  the  skin.  The  clothes 
marked  '  Mercy  Merrick '  were  the  clothes  lent  to  me  by  Mer- 
cy Merrick  herself  while  my  own  things  were  drying.  I  was 
struck  by  the  shell  in  those  clothes.  I  was  carried  away  in- 
sensible in  those  clothes  after  the  operation  had  been  per- 
formed on  me." 

Lady  Janet  listened  to  perfection — and  did  no  more.  She 
turned  confidentially  to  Horace,  and  said  to  him,  in  her  grace- 
fully ironical  way, "  She  is  ready  with  her  explanation." 

Horace  answered  in  the  same  tone, "  A  great  deal  too  ready." 

Grace  looked  from  one  of  them  to  the  other.     A  faint  flush' 
of  color  showed  itself  in  her  face  for  the  first  time. 

"Am  I  to  understand,"  she  asked,  with  proud  composure, 
"  that  you  don't  believe  me  ?" 

Lady  Janet  maintained  her  policy  of  silence.  She  waved 
one  hand  courteously  toward  Julian,  as  if  to  say,  "Address 
your  inquiries  to  the  gentleman  who  introduces  you."  Julian, 
noticing  the  gesture,  and  observing  the  rising  color  in  Grace's 
cheeks,  interfered  directly  in  the  interests  of  peace. 

"Lady  Janet  asked  you  a  question  just  now,"  he  said; 
"Lady  Janet  inquired  who  your  father  was." 

"  My  father  was  the  late  Colonel  Roseberry." 

Lady  Janet  made  another  confidential  remark  to  Horace. 
"  Her  assurance  amazes  me  !"  she  exclaimed. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  105 

Julian  interposed  before  his  aunt  could  add  a  word  more. 
'  Pray  let  us  hear  her,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  entreaty  which 
had  something  of  the  imperative  in  it  this  time.  He  turned 
to  Grace.  "  Have  you  any  proof  to  produce,"  he  added,  in 
his  gentler  voice, "  which  will  satisfy  us  that  you  are  Colonel 
Koseberry's  daughter  ?" 

(Trace  looked  at  him  indignantly.  "Proof!"  she  repeated. 
"  Is  my  word  not  enough  ?" 

Julian  kept  his  temper  perfectly.  "Pardon  me,"  he  rejoin- 
ed, "  you  forget  that  you  and  Lady  Janet  meet  now  for  the 
first  time.  Try  to  put  yourself  in  my  aunt's  place.  How 
is  she  to  know  that  you  are  the  late  Colonel  Roseberry's 
daughter  V" 

Grace's  head  sunk  on  her  breast;  she  dropped  into  the 
nearest  chair.  The  expression  of  her  face  changed  instantly 
from  anger  to  discouragement.  "Ah,"  she  exclaimed,  bitter- 
ly, "  if  I  only  had  the  letters  that  have  been  stolen  from  me !" 

"  Letters,"  asked  Julian,  "  introducing  you  to  Lady  Janet  ?" 

"Yes."  She  turned  suddenly  to  Lady  Janet.  "Let  me 
tell  you  how  I  lost  them,"  she  said,  in  the  first  tones  of  en- 
treaty which  had  escaped  her  yet. 

Lady  Janet  hesitated.  It  was  not  in  her  generous  nature 
to  resist  the  appeal  that  had  just  been  made  to  her.  The 
sympathies  of  Horace  were  far  less  easily  reached.  He  light- 
ly launched  a  new  shaft  of  satire — intended  for  the  private 
amusement  of  Lady  Janet.  "Another  explanation!"  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  look  of  comic  resignation. 

Julian  overheard  the  words.  His  large  lustrous  eyes  fixed 
themselves  on  Horace  with  a  look  of  unmeasured  contempt. 

"The  least  you  can  do,"  he  said, sternly,  "  is  not  to  irritate 
her.  It  is  so  easy  to  irritate  her !"  He  addressed  himself 
again  to  Grace,  endeavoring  to  help  her  through  her  difficulty 
in  a  new  way.  "Never  mind  explaining  yourself  for  the  mo- 
ment," he  said.  "In  the  absence  of  your  letters,  have  you 
any  one  in  London  who  can  speak  to  your  identity?" 


106  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Grace  shook  her  head  sadly.  "  I  have  no  friends  in  Lon- 
don,"  she  answered. 

it  was  impossible  for  Lady  Janet — who  had  never  in  her 
life  heard  of  any  body  without  friends  in  London — to  pass 
this  over  without  notice.  "  No  friends  in  London !"  she  re- 
peated, turning  to  Horace. 

Horace  shot  another  shaft  of  light  satire.  "Of  course 
not !"  he  rejoined. 

Grace  saw  them  comparing  notes.  "My  friends  are  in 
Canada,"  she  broke  out,  impetuously.  "  Plenty  of  friends 
who  could  speak  for  me,  if  I  could  only  bring  them  here." 

As  a  place  of  reference — mentioned  in  the  capital  city  of 
England — Canada,  there  is  no  denying  it,  is  open  to  objection 
on  the  ground  of  distance.  Horace  was  ready  with  another 
shot.  "  Far  enough  off,  certainly,"  he  said. 

"  Far  enough  off,  as  you  say,"  Lady  Janet  agreed. 

Once  more  Julian's  inexhaustible  kindness  strove  to  obtain 
a  hearing  for  the  stranger  who  had  been  confided  to  his  care. 
"A  little  patience,  Lady  Janet,"  he  pleaded.  "A  little  consid- 
eration, Horace,  for  a  friendless  woman." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Grace.  "  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to 
try  and  help  me,  but  it  is  useless.  They  won't  even  listen 
to  me."  She  attempted  to  rise  from  her  chair  as  she  pro- 
nounced the  last  words.  Julian  gently  laid  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder  and  obliged  her  to  resume  her  seat. 

"7"  will  listen  to  you,"  he  said.  "  You  referred  me  just 
now  to  the  consul's  letter.  The  consul  tells  me  you  suspect- 
ed some  one  of  taking  your  papers  and  your  clothes." 

"  I  don't  suspect,"  was  the  quick  reply ;  "  I  am  certain ! 
I  tell  you  positively  Mercy  Merrick  was  the  thief.  She  was 
alone  with  me  when  I  was  struck  down  by  the  shell.  She 
was  the  only  person  who  knew  that  I  had  letters  of  introduc- 
tion about  me.  She  confessed  to  my  face  that  she  had  been 
a  bad  woman — she  had  been  in  a  prison — she  had  come  out 
of  a  refuge — " 


THK    NK\V    MAKDALEN.  107 

Julian  slopped  her  there  with  one  plain  question,  which 
threw  a  doubt  on  the  whole  story. 

"The  consul  tells  me  you  asked  him  to  search  for  Mercy 
Merrick,"  he  said.  "  Is  it  not  true  that  he  caused  inquiries 
to  be  made,  and  that  no  trace  of  any  such  person  was  to  be 
heard  of?" 

"  The  consul  took  no  pains  to  find  her,"  Grace  answered, 
angrily.  "  He  was,  like  every  body  else,  in  a  conspiracy  to 
neglect  and  misjudge  me." 

Lady  Janet  and  Horace  exchanged  looks.  This  time  it 
was  impossible  for  Julian  to  blame  them.  The  farther  the 
stranger's  narrative  advanced,  the  less  worthy  of  serious  at- 
tention he  felt  it  to  be.  The  longer  she  spoke,  the  more  dis- 
advantageously  she  Challenged  comparison  with  the  absent 
woman,  whose  name  she  so  obstinately  and  so  audaciously 
persisted  in  assuming  as  her  own. 

"  Granting  all  that  you  have  said,"  Julian  resumed,  with  a 
last  effort  of  patience, "  what  use  could  Mercy  Merrick  make 
of  your  letters  and  your  clothes  ?" 

"  What  use  ?"  repeated  Grace,  amazed  at  his  not  seeing 
the  position  as  she  saw  it.  "  My  clothes  were  marked  with 
my  name.  One  of  my  papers  was  a  letter  from  my  father, 
introducing  me  to  Lady  Janet.  A  woman  out  of  a  refuge 
would  be  quite  capable  of  presenting  herself  here  in  my 
place." 

Spoken  entirely  at  random,  spoken  without  so  much  as  a 
fragment  of  evidence  to  support  them,  those  last  words  still 
had  their  effect.  They  cast  a  reflection  on  Lady  Jarfet's 
adopted  daughter  which  was  too  outrageous  to  be  borne. 
Lady  Jan«t  rose  instantly.  "Give  me  your  arm,  Horace," 
she  said,  turning  to  leave  the  room.  "  I  have  heard  enough." 

Horace  respectfully  offered  his  arm.  "  Your  ladyship  is 
quite  right,"  he  answered.  "  A  more  monstrous  story  never 
was  invented." 

He  spoke,  in  the  warmth  of  his  indignation,  loud  enough 


108  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

for  Grace  to  hear  him.  "What  is  there  monstrous  in  it?" 
she  asked,  advancing  a  step  toward  him,  defiantly. 

Julian  checked  her.  He  too — though  he  had  only  once 
seen  Mercy — felt  an  angry  sense  of  the  insult  offered  to  the 
beautiful  creature  who  had  interested  him  at  his  first  sight  of 
her.  "Silence!"  he  said,  speaking  sternly  to  Grace  for  the 
first  time.  "You  are  offending — justly  offending — Lady  Ja- 
net. You  are  talking  worse  than  absurdly — you  are  talking 
offensively — when  you  speak  of  another  woman  presenting 
herself  here  in  your  place." 

Grace's  blood  was  up.  Stung  by  Julian's  reproof,  she  turn- 
ed on  him  a  look  which  was  almost  a  look  of  fury. 

"Are  you  a  clergyman?  Are  you  an  educated  man  ?"  she 
asked.  "  Have  you  never  read  of  cases  of  false  personation, 
in  newspapers  and  books  ?  I  blindly  confided  in  Mercy  Mer- 
rick  before  I  found  out  what  her  character  really  was.  She 
left  the  cottage — I  know  it,  from  the  surgeon  who  brought 
me  to  life  again — firmly  persuaded  that  the  shell  had  killed 
me.  My  papers  and  my  clothes  disappeared  at  the  same  time. 
Is  there  nothing  suspicious  in  these  circumstances?  There 
were  people  at  the  Hospital  who  thought  them  highly  sus- 
picious— people  who  warned  me  that  I  might  find  an  impos- 
tor in  my  place."  She  suddenly  paused.  The  rustling  sound 
of  a  silk  dress  had  caught  her  ear.  Lady  Janet  was  leaving 
the  room,  with  Horace,  by  way  of  the  conservatory.  With  a 
last  desperate  effort  of  resolution,  Grace  sprung  forward  and 
placed  herself  in  front  of  them. 

"  One  word,  Lady  Janet,  before  you  turn  your  back  on  me," 
she  said,  firmly.  "  One  word,  and  I  will  be  content.  Has 
Colonel  Roseberry's  letter  found  its  way  to  this  house  or  not  ? 
If  it  has,  did  a  woman  bring  it  to  you  ?" 

Lady  Janet  looked — as  only  a  great  lady  can  look,  when  a  per- 
son of  inferior  rank  has  presumed  to  fail  in  respect  toward  her. 

"  You  are  sui'ely  not  aware,"  she  said,  with  icy  composure, 
"  that  these  questions  are  an  insult  to  Me  ?" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  109 

"And  worse  than  an  insult,"  Horace  added,  warmly,  " to 
Grace  !" 

The  little  resolute  black  figure  (still  barring  the  way  to  the 
conservatory)  was  suddenly  shaken  from  head  to  foot.  The 
woman's  eyes  traveled  backward  and  forward  between  Lady 
Janet  and  Horace  with  the  light  of  a  new  suspicion  in  them. 

"Grace!"  she  exclaimed.  "What  Grace?  That's  ray 
name.  Lady  Janet,  you  have  got  the  letter !  The  woman  is 
here !" 

Lady  Janet  dropped  Horace's  arm,  and  retraced  her  steps 
to  the  place  at  which  her  nephew  was  standing. 

"  Julian,"  she  said.  "  You  force  me,  for  the  first  time  in 
my  life,  to  remind  you  of  the  respect  that  is  due  to  me  in  ray 
own  house.  Send  that  woman  away." 

Without  waiting  to  be  answered,  she  turned  back  again, 
and  once  more  took  Horace's  arm. 

"  Stand  back,  if  you  please,"  she  said,  quietly,  to  Grace. 

Grace  held  her  ground. 

"  The  woman  is  here  !"  she  repeated.  "  Confront  me  with 
her — and  then  send  me  away,  if  you  like." 

Julian  advanced,  and  firmly  took  her  by  the  arm.  "You 
forget  what  is  due  to  Lady  Janet,"  he  said,  drawing  her  aside. 
"  You  forget  what  is  due  to  yourself." 

With  a  desperate  effort,  Grace  broke  away  from  him,  and 
stopped  Lady  Janet  on  the  threshold  of  the  conservatory 
door. 

"  Justice  !"  she  cried,  shaking  her  clinched  hand  with  hys- 
terical frenzy  in  the  air.  "  I  claim  my  right  to  meet  that 
woman  face  to  face  !  Where  is  she  ?  Confront  me  with 
her  !  Confront  me  with  her  !" 

While  those  wild  words  were  pouring  from  her  lips,  the 
rumbling  of  carriage  wheels  became  audible  on  the  drive  in 
front  of  the  house.  In  the  all-absorbing  agitation  of  the  mo- 
ment, the  sound  of  the  wheels  (followed  by  the  opening  of 
the  house  door)  passed  unnoticed  by  the  persons  in  the  din- 


110  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

ing-room.  Horace's  voice  was  still  raised  in  angry  protest 
against  the  insult  offered  to  Lady  Janet ;  Lady  Janet  herself 
(leaving  him  for  the  second  time)  Was  vehemently  ringing 
the  bell  to  summon  the  servants ;  Julian  had  once  more  taken 
the  infuriated  woman  by  the  arm,  and  was  trying  vainly  to 
compose  her — when  the  library  door  was  opened  quietly  by  a 
young  lady  wearing  a  mantle  and  a  bonnet.  Mercy  Merrick 
(true  to  the  appointment  which  she  had  made  with  Horace) 
entered  the  room. 

The  first  eyes  that  discovered  her  presence  on  the  scene 
were  the  eyes  of  Grdce  Roseberry.  Starting  violently  in  Ju- 
lian's grasp,  she  pointed  toward  the  library  door.  "Ah  !" 
she  cried,  with  a  shriek  of  vindictive'  delight.  "There 
she  is !" 

Mercy  turned  as  the  sound  of  the  scream  rang  through  the 
room,  and  met — resting  on  her  in  savage  triumph — the  living 
gaze  of  the  woman  whose  identity  she  had  stolen,  whose  body 
she  had  left  laid  out  for  dead.  On  the  instant  of  that  terri- 
ble discovery — with  her  eyes  fixed  helplessly  on  the  fierce 
eyes  that  had  found  her — she  dropped  senseless  on  the  floor. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

EXIT   JULIAN. 

JULIAN  happened  to  be  standing  nearest  to  Mercy.  He 
was  the  first  at  her  side  when  she  fell. 

In  the  cry  of  alarm  which  burst  from  him,  as  he  raised  her 
for  a  moment  in  his  arms,  in  the  expression  of  his  eyes  when 
he  looked  at  her  death-like  face,  there  escaped  the  plain — too 
plain — confession  of  the  interest  which  he  felt  in  her,  of  the 
admiration  which  she  had  aroused  in  him.  Horace  detected 
it.  There  was  the  quick  suspicion  of  jealousy  in  the  move- 
ment by  which  he  joined  Julian ;  there  was  the  ready  resent- 
ment of  jealousy  in  the  tone  in  which  he  pronounced  the 


THK    NEW    MAGDALEN.  Ill 

words,  "  Leave  her  to  me."  Julian  resigned  her  in  silence. 
A  faint  flush  appeared  on  his  pale  face  as  he  drew  back  while 
I  lorace  carried  her  to  the  sofa.  His  eyes  sunk  to  the  ground  ; 
he  seemed  to  be  meditating  self-reproachfully  on  the  tone  in 
which  his  friend  had  spoken  to  him.  After  having  been  the 
first  to  take  an  active  part  in  meeting  the  calamity  that  had 
happened,  he  was  now,  to  all  appearance,  insensible  to  every 
thing  that  was  passing  in  the  room. 

A  touch  on  his  shoulder  roused  him. 

He  turned  and  looked  round.  The  woman  who  had  done 
the  mischief — the  stranger  in  the  poor  black  garments — was 
standing  behind  him.  She  pointed  to  the  prostrate  figure  on 
the  sofa,  with  a  merciless  smile. 

"  You  wanted  a  proof  just  now,"  she  said.     "There  it  is  !" 

Horace  heard  her.  He  suddenly  left  the  sofa  and  joined 
Julian.  His  face,  naturally  ruddy,  was  pale  with  suppressed 
fury. 

"  Take  that  wretch  away  !"  he  said.  "  Instantly  !  or  I 
won't  answer  for  what  I  may  do." 

Those  words  recalled  Julian  to  himself.  He  looked  round 
the  room.  Lady  Janet  and  the  housekeeper  were  together, 
in  attendance  on  the  swooning  woman.  The  startled  servants 
were  congregated  in  the  library  door-way.  One  of  them  of- 
fered to  run  to  the  nearest  doctor ;  another  asked  if  he  should 
fetch  the  police.  Julian  silenced  them  by  a  gesture,  and 
turned  to  Horace.  "  Compose  yourself,"  he  said.  "  Leave 
me  to  remove  her  quietly  from  the  house."  He  took  Grace 
by  the  hand  as  he  spoke.  She  hesitated,  and  tried  to  release 
herself.  Julian  pointed  to  the  group  at  the  sofa,  and  to  the 
servants  looking  on.  "  You  have  made  an  enemy  of  every 
one  in  this  room,"  he  said, "  and  you  have  not  a  friend  in  Lon- 
ilon.  Do  you  wish  to  make  an  enemy  of  me?"  Her  head 
drooped;  she  made  no  reply;  she  waited,  dumbly  obedient 
to  the  firmer  will  than  her  own.  Julian  ordered  the  servants 
crowding  together  in  the  door-way  to  withdraw.  He  followed 


112  THE   NEW    MAGDALEN. 

them  into  the  library,  leading  Grace  after  him  by  the  hand. 
Before  closing  the  door  he  paused,  and  looked  back  into  the 
dining-room. 

"  Is  she  recovering  ?"  he  asked,  after  a  moment's  hesitation. 

Lady  Janet's  voice  answered  him.     "  Not  yet." 

"  Shall  I  send  for  the  nearest  doctor  ?" 

Horace  interposed.  He  declined  to  let  Julian  associate 
himself,  even  in  that  indirect  manner,  with  Mercy's  recovery. 

"  If  the  doctor  is  wanted,"  he  said, "  I  will  go  for  him  my- 
self." 

Julian  closed  the  library  door.  He  absently  released  Grace ; 
he  mechanically  pointed  to  a  chair.  She  sat  down  in  silent 
surprise,  following  him  with  her  eyes  as  he  walked  slowly  to 
and  fro  in  the  room. 

For  the  moment  his  mind  was  far  away  from  her,  and  from 
:.ll  that  had  happened  since  her  appearance  in  the  house.  It 
was  impossible  that  a  man  of  his  fineness  of  perception  could 
mistake  the  meaning  of  Horace's  conduct  toward  him.  He 
was  questioning  his  own  heart,  on  the  subject  of  Mercy,  stern- 
ly and  unreservedly  as  it  was  his  habit  to  do.  "After  only 
once  seeing  her,"  he  thought,  "  has  she  produced  such  an  im- 
pression on  me  that  Horace  can  discover  it,  before  I  have  even 
suspected  it  myself?  Can  the  time  have  come  already  when 
I  owe  it  to  my  friend  to  see  her  no  more  ?"  He  stopped  irri- 
tably in  his  walk.  As  a  man  devoted  to  a  serious  calling  in 
life,  there  was  something  that  wounded  his  self-respect  in  the 
bare  suspicion  that  he  could  be  guilty  of  the  purely  sentiment- 
al extravagance  called  "  love  at  first  sight." 

He  had  paused  exactly  opposite  to  the  chair  in  which  Grace 
was  seated.  Weary  of  the  silence,  she  seized  the  opportunity 
of  speaking  to  him. 

"  I  have  come  here  with  you  as  you  wished,"  she  said.  "Are 
you  going  to  help  me?  Am  I  to  count  on  you  as  my  friend?" 

He  looked  at  her  vacantly.  It  cost  him  an  effort  before 
he  could  give  her  the  attention  that  she  had  claimed. 


THE    NEW   MAGDALBW.  U3 

"  You  have  been  hard  on  me,"  Grace  went  on.  "  Bat  you 
showed  me  some  kindness  at  first;  you  tried  to  make  them 
give  me  a  fair  hearing.  I  ask  you,  as  a  just  mau,  do  you 
doubt  now  that  the  woman  on  the  sofa  in  the  next  room  is  an 
impostor  who  has  taken  my  place?  Can  there  be  any  plainer 
confession  that  she  is  Mercy  Merrick  than  the  confession  she 
has  made?  You  saw  it;  they  saw  it.  She  fainted  at  the 
sight  of  me." 

Julian  crossed  the  room — still  without  answering  her— and 
rang  the  bell.  When  the  servant  appeared,  he  told  the  man 
to  fetch  a  cab. 

Grace  rose  from  her  chair.  "What  is  the  cab  for?"  she 
asked, sharply. 

"  For  you  and  for  me,"  Julian  replied.  "  I  am  going  to 
take  you  back  to  your  lodgings." 

"  I  refuse  to  go.  My  place  is  in  this  house.  Neither  Lady 
Janet  nor  you  can  get  over  the  plain  facts.  All  I  asked  was 
to  be  confronted  with  her.  And  what  did  she  do  when  she 
came  into  the  room  ?  She  fainted  at  the  sight  of  me." 

Reiterating  her  one  triumphant  assertion,  she  fixed  her  eyes 
on  Julian  with  a  look  which  said  plainly,  Answer  that  if  you 
can.  In  mercy  to  her,  Julian  answered  it  on  the  spot. 

"So  far  as  I  understand,"  he  said,  "you  appear  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  no  innocent  woman  would  have  fainted  on 
first  seeing  you.  I  have  something  to  tell  you  which  will 
alter  your  opinion.  On  her  arrival  in  England  this  lady  in- 
formed my  aunt  that  she  had  met  with  you  accidentally  on 
the  French  frontier,  and  that  she  had  seen  you  (so  far  as  she 
knew)  struck  dead  at  her  side  by  a  shell.  Remember  that, 
and  recall  what  happened  just  now.  Without  a  word  to  warn 
her  of  your  restoration  to  life,  she  finds  herself  suddenly  face 
to  face  with  you,  a  living  woman — and  this  at  a  time  when  it 
is  easy  for  any  one  who  looks  at  her  to  see  that  she  is  in  deli- 
cate health.  What  is  there  wonderful,  what  is  there  unac- 
countable, in  her  fainting  under  such  circumstances  aa  theae  ?w 


114  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

The  question  was  plainly  put.    Where  was  the  answer  to  it  ? 

There  was  no  answer  to  it.  Mercy's  wisely  candid  state- 
ment of  the  manner  in  which  she  had  first  met  with  Grace, 
and  of  the  accident  which  had  followed,  had  served  Mercy's 
purpose  but  too  well.  It  was  simply  impossible  for  persons 
acquainted  with  that  statement  to  attach  a  guilty  meaning  to 
the  swoon.  The  false  Grace  Roseberry  was  still  as  far  beyond 
the  reach  of  suspicion  as  ever,  and  the  true  Grace  was  quick 
enough  to  see  it.  She  sunk  into  the  chair  from  which  she  had 
risen ;  her  hands  fell  in  hopeless  despair  on  her  lap. 

"  Every  thing  is  against  me,"  she  said.  "  The  truth  itself 
turns  liar,  and  takes  her  side."  She  paused  and  rallied  her 
sinking  courage.  "  No  !"  she  cried,  resolutely,  "  I  won't  sub- 
mit to  have  my  name  and  my  place  taken  from  me  by  a  vile 
adventuress  !  Say  what  you  like,  I  insist  on  exposing  her ;  I 
won't  leave  the  house !" 

The  servant  entered  the  room,  and  announced  that  the  cab 
was  at  the  door. 

Grace  turned  to  Julian  with  a  defiant  wave  of  her  hand. 
"  Don't  let  me  detain  you,"  she  said.  "  I  see  I  have  neither 
advice  nor  help  to  expect  from  Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

Julian  beckoned  to  the  servant  to  follow  him  into  a  corner 
of  the  room. 

"  Do  you  know  if  the  doctor  has  been  sent  for  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  believe  not,  sir.  It  is  said  in  the  servants'  hall  that  the 
doctor  is  not  wanted." 

Julian  was  too  anxious  to  be  satisfied  with  a  report  from 
the  servants'  hall.  He  hastily  wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper :  "  Has 
she  recovered  ?"  and  gave  the  note  to  the  man,  with  directions 
to  take  it  to  Lady  Janet. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said?"  Grace  inquired,  while  the 
messenger  was  absent  in  the  dining-room. 

"  I  will  answer  you  directly,"  said  Julian. 

The  servant  appeared  again  as  he  spoke,  with  some  lines 
in  pencil  written  by  Lady  Janet  on  the  back  of  Julian's  note. 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  115 

"Thank  God,  wo  have  revived  her.  In  a  few  minute*  we 
hope  to  be  able  to  take  her  to  her  room." 

The  nearest  way  to  Mercy's  room  was  through  the  library. 
Grace's  immediate  removal  had  now  become  a  necessity  which 
was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Julian  addressed  himself  to  meet- 
ing the  difficulty  the  instant  he  was  left  alone  with  Grace. 

"  Listen  to  me,"  he  said.  "  The  cab  is  waiting,  and  I  have 
my  last  words  to  say  to  you.  You  are  now  (thanks  to  the 
consul's  recommendation)  in  my  care.  Decide  at  once  wheth- 
er you  will  remain  under  my  charge,  or  whether  you  will 
transfer  yourself  to  the  charge  of  the  police." 

Grace  started.     "  What  do  you  mean?" she  asked,  angrily. 

"  If  you  wish  to  remain  under  my  charge,"  Julian  proceed- 
ed, "  you  will  accompany  me  at  once  to  the  cab.  In  that  case 
I  will  undertake  to  give  you  an  opportunity  of  telling  your 
story  to  my  own  lawyer.  He  will  be  a  fitter  person  to  advise 
you  than  I  am.  Nothing  will  induce  me  to  believe  that  the  lady 
whom  you  have  accused  has  committed,  or  is  capable  of  com- 
mitting, such  a  fraud  as  you  charge  her  with.  You  will  hear 
what  the  lawyer  thinks,  if  you  come  with  me.  If  you  refuse, 
I  shall  have  no  choice  but  to  send  into  the  next  room,  and 
tell  them  that  you  are  still  here.  The  result  will  be  that  you 
will  find  yourself  in  charge  of  the  police.  Take  which  course 
you  like  :  I  will  give  you  a  minute  to  decide  in.  And  remem- 
ber this — if  I  appear  to  express  myself  harshly,  it  is  your  con- 
duct which  forces  me  to  speak  out.  I  mean  kindly  toward 
you  ;  I  am  advising  you  honestly  for  your  good." 

He  took  out  his  watch  to  count  the  minute. 

Grace  stole  one  furtive  glance  at  his  steady,  resolute  face. 
She  was  perfectly  unmoved  by  the  manly  consideration  for  her 
which  Julian's  last  words  had  expressed.  All  she  understood 
was  that  he  was  not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with.  Future  oppor- 
tunities would  offer  themselves  of  returning  secretly  to  the 
house.  She  determined  to  yield — and  deceive  him. 

"  I  am  ready  to  go,"  she  said,  rising  with  dogged  submission. 


116  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Your  turn  now,"  she  muttered  to  herself,  as  she  turned  to  the 
looking-glass  to  arrange  her  shawl.  "  My  turn  will  come." 

Julian  advanced  toward  her,  as  if  to  offer  her  his  arm,  and 
checked  himself.  Firmly  persuaded  as  he  was  that  her  mind 
was  deranged — readily  as  he  admitted  that  she  claimed,  in 
virtue  of  her  affliction,  every  indulgence  that  he  could  extend 
to  her — there  was  something  repellent  to  him  at  that  moment 
in  the  bare  idea  of  touching  her.  The  image  of  the  beautiful 
creature  who  was  the  object  of  her  monstrous  accusation — 
the  image  of  Mercy  as  she  lay  helpless  for  a  moment  in  his 
arms — was  vivid  in  his  mind  while  he  opened  the  door  that 
led  into  the  hall,  and  drew  back  to  let  Grace  pass  out  before 
him.  He  left  the  servant  to  help  her  into  the  cab.  The  man 
respectfully  addressed  him  as  he  took  his  seat  opposite  to 
Grace. 

"  I  am  ordered  to  say  that  your  room  is  ready,  sir,  and  that 
her  ladyship  expects  you  to  dinner." 

Absorbed  in  the  events  which  had  followed  his  aunt's  invi- 
tation, Julian  had  forgotten  his  engagement  to  stay  at  Mable- 
thorpe  House.  Could  he  return,  knowing  his  own  heart  as 
he  now  knew  it?  Could  he  honorably  remain,  perhaps  for 
weeks  together,  in  Mercy's  society,  conscious  as  he  now  was 
of  the  impression  which  she  had  produced  on  him  ?  No. 
The  one  honorable  course  that  he  could  take  was  to  find  an 
excuse  for  withdrawing  from  his  engagement.  "  Beg  her  lady- 
ship not  to  wait  dinner  for  me,"  he  said.  "  I  will  write  and 
make  my  apologies."  The  cab  drove  off.  The  wondering 
servant  waited  on  the  door-step,  looking  after  it.  "  I  wouldn't 
stand  in  Mr.  Julian's  shoes  for  something,"  he  thought,  with 
his  mind  running  on  the  difficulties  of  the  young  clergyman's 
position.  "  There  she  is  along  with  him  in  the  cab.  What 
is  he  going  to  do  with  her  after  that?" 

Julian  himself,  if  it  had  been  put  to  him  at  the  moment, 
could  not  have  answered  the  question. 


THE    NKNV     M.uiDALKX.  117 

Lady  Janet's  anxiety  was  far  from  being  relieved  wh.-n 
Mercy  had  been  restored  to  her  senses  and  conducted  to  her 
own  room. 

Mercy's  mind  remained  in  a  condition  of  unreasoning  alarm, 
which  it  was  impossible  to  remove.  Over  and  over  again  she 
was  told  that  the  woman  who  had  terrified  her  had  left  the 
house,  and  would  never  be  permitted  to  enter  it  more.  Over 
and  over  again  she  was  assured  that  the  stranger's  frantic  as- 
sertions were  regarded  by  every  body  about  her  as  unworthy 
of  a  moment's  serious  attention.  She  persisted  in  doubting 
whether  they  were  telling  her  the  truth.  A  shocking  dis- 
trust of  her  friends  seemed  to  possess  her.  She  shrunk  when 
Lady  Janet  approached  the  bedside.  She  shuddered  when 
Lady  Janet  kissed  her.  She  flatly  refused  to  let  Horace 
see  her.  She  asked  the  strangest  questions  about  Julian 
Gray,  and  shook  her  head  suspiciously  when  they  told  her 
that  he  was  absent  from  the  house.  At  intervals  she  hid 
her  face  in  the  bedclothes  and  murmured  to  herself  piteous- 
ly,  "Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do?"  At  other 
times  her  one  petition  was  to  be  left  alone.  "  I  want  no- 
body in  my  room" — that  was  her  sullen  cry — "nobody  in 
my  room." 

The  evening  advanced,  and  brought  with  it  no  change  for 
the  better.  Lady  Janet,  by  the  advice  of  Horace,  sent  for 
her  own  medical  adviser. 

The  doctor  shook  his  head.  The  symptoms,  he  said,  indi- 
cated a  serious  shock  to  the  nervous  system.  He  wrote  a 
sedative  prescription ;  and  he  gave  (with  a  happy  choice  of 
language)  some  sound  and  safe  advice.  It  amounted  briefly 
to  this:  "Take  her  away,  and  try  the  sea-side."  Lady  Ja- 
net's customary  energy  acted  on  the  advice,  without  a  mo- 
ment's needless  delay.  She  gave  the  necessary  directions  for 
packing  the  trunks  overnight,  and  decided  on  leaving  Mablo- 
thorpe  House  with  Mercy  the  next  morning. 

Shortly  after  the  doctor  had  taken  his  departure  a  letter 


118  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

from  Julian,  addressed  to  Lady  Janet,  was  delivered  by  pri- 
vate messenger. 

Beginning  with  the  necessary  apologies  for  the  writer's  ab- 
sence, the  letter  proceeded  in  these  terms : 

"  Before  I  permitted  my  companion  to  see  the  lawyer,  I 
felt  the  necessity  of  consulting  him  as  to  my  present  position 
toward  her  first. 

"  I  told  him — what  I  think  it  only  right  to  repeat  to  you — 
that  I  do  not  feel  justified  in  acting  on  my  own  opinion  that 
her  mind  is  deranged.  In  the  case  of  this  friendless  woman 
I  want  medical  authority,  and,  more  even  than  that,  I  want 
some  positive  proof,  to  satisfy  my  conscience  as  well  as  to 
confirm  my  view. 

"  Finding  me  obstinate  on  this  point,  the  lawyer  undertook 
to  consult  a  physician  accustomed  to  the  treatment  of  the  in- 
sane, on  my  behalf. 

"After  sending  a  message. and  receiving  the  answer,  he 
said, '  Bring  the  lady  here— in  half  an  hour ;  she  shall  tell  her 
story  to  the  doctor  instead  of  telling  it  to  me.'  The  proposal 
rather  staggered  me;  I  asked  how  it  was  possible  to  induce 
her  to  do  that.  He  laughed,  and  answered,  '  I  shall  present 
the  doctor  as  my  senior  partner;  my  senior  partner  will  be 
the  very  man  to  advise  her.'  You  know  that  I  hate  all  de- 
ception, even  where  the  end  in  view  appears  to  justify  it. 
On  this  occasion,  however,  there  was  no  other  alternative 
than  to  let  the  lawyer  take  his  own  course,  or  to  run  the  risk 
of  a  delay  which  might  be  followed  by  serious  results. 

"  I  waited  in  a  room  by  myself  (feeling  very  uneasy,  I  own) 
until  the  doctor  joined  me,  after  the  interview  was  over, 

"  His  opinion  is,  briefly,  this : 

"After  careful  examination  of  the  unfortunate  creature,  he 
thinks  that  there  are  unmistakably  symptoms  of  mental  aber- 
ration. But  how  far  the  mischief  has  gone,  and  whether  her 
case  is,  or  is  not,  sufficiently  grave  to  render  actual  restraint 


TUB   NEW   MAODALBX.  H0 

necessary,  he  can  not  positively  say,  in  our  present  state  oi 
ignorance  as  to  facts. 

" '  Tims  far,'  he  observed, «  we  know  nothing  of  that  part 
of  her  delusion  which  relates  to  Mercy  Merrick.  The  solu- 
tion of  the  difficulty,  in  this  case,  is  to  be  found  there.  I  en- 
tirely agree  with  the  lady  that  the  inquiries  of  the  consul  at 
Mannheim  are  far  from  being  conclusive.  Furnish  me  with 
satisfactory  evidence  either  that  there  is,  or  is  not,  such  a  per- 
son really  in  existence  as  Mercy  Merrick,  and  I  will  give  you 
a  positive  opinion  on  the  case  whenever  you  choose  to  ask 
for  it.' 

"  Those  words  have  decided  me  on  starting  for  the  Conti- 
nent and  renewing  the  search  for  Mercy  Merrick. 

"  My  friend  the  lawyer  wonders  jocosely  whether  I  am  in 
my  right  senses.  His  advice  is  that  I  should  apply  to  the 
nearest  magistrate,  and  relieve  you  and  myself  of  all  further 
trouble  in  that  way. 

"Perhaps  you  agree  with  him?  My  dear  aunt  (as  you 
have  often  said),  I  do  nothing  like  other  people.  I  am  inter- 
ested in  this  case.  I  can  not  abandon  a  forlorn  woman  who 
has  been  confided  to  me  to  the  tender  mercies  of  strangers, 
so  long  as  there  is  any  hope  of  my  making  discoveries  which 
may  be  instrumental  in  restoring  her  to  herself  —  perhaps, 
also,  in  restoring  her  to  her  friends. 

"  I  start  by  the  mail-train  of  to-night.  My  plan  is  to  go 
first  to  Mannheim  and  consult  with  the  consul  and  the  hospi- 
tal doctors ;  then  to  find  my  way  to  the  German  surgeon  and 
to  question  him ;  and,  that  done,  to  make  the  last  and  hard- 
est effort  of  all — the  effort  to  trace  the  French  ambulance  and 
to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  Mercy  Merrick. 

"  Immediately  on  my  return  I  will  wait  on  you,  and  tell 
you  what  I  have  accomplished,  or  how  I  have  failed. 

"  In  the  mean  while,  pray  be  under  no  alarm  about  the  re- 
appearance of  this  unhappy  woman  at  your  house.  She  is 
fully  occupied  in  writing  (at  my  suggestion)  to  her  friends  in 


120  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Canada;  and  she  is  under  the  care  of  the  landlady  at  her 
lodgings — an  experienced  and  trustworthy  person,  who  has 
satisfied  the  doctor  as  well  as  myself  of  her  fitness  for  the 
charge  that  she  has  undertaken. 

"  Pray  mention  this  to  Miss  Roseberry  (whenever  you 
think  it  desirable),  with  the  respectful  expression  of  my  sym- 
pathy, and  of  my  best  wishes  for  her  speedy  restoration  (o 
health.  And  once  more  forgive  me  for  failing,  under  stress 
of  necessity,  to  enjoy  the  hospitality  of  Mablethorpe  House." 

Lady  Janet  closed  Julian's  letter,  feeling  far  from  satisfied 
with  it.  She  sat  for  a  while,  pondering  over  what  her  neph- 
ew had  written  to  her. 

"One  of  two  things,"  thought  the  quick-witted  old  lady. 
"Either  the  lawyer  is  right,  and  Julian  is  a  fit  companion 
for  the  madwoman  whom  he  has  taken  under  his  charge,  or 
he  has  some  second  motive  for  this  absurd  journey  of  his 
which  he  has  carefully  abstained  from  mentioning  in  his  let- 
ter. What  can  the  motive  be  ?" 

At  intervals  during  the  night  that  question  recurred  to  her 
ladyship  again  and  again.  The  utmost  exercise  of  her  in- 
genuity failing  to  answer  it,  her  one  resource  left  was  to  wait 
patiently  for  Julian's  return,  and,  in  her  own  favorite  phrase, 
to  "  have  it  out  of  him  "  then. 

The  next  morning  Lady  Janet  and  Her  adopted  daughter 
lef{  Mablethorpe  House  for  Brighton ;  Horace  (who  had 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  accompany  them)  being  sentenced  to 
remain  in  London  by  Mercy's  express  desire.  Why — nobody 
could  guess ;  and  Mercy  refused  to  say. 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  Jf  j 


CHAPTER 

ENTER   JULIAN. 

A  WEEK  has  passed.  The  scene  opens  again  in  the  dining- 
room  at  Mablethorpe  House. 

The  hospitable  table  bears  once  more  its  bnrden  of  good 
things  for  lunch.  But  on  this  occasion  Lady  Janet  sits 
alone.  Her  attention  is  divided  between  reading  her  news- 
paper and  feeding  her  cat.  The  cat  is  a  sleek  and  splendid 
creature.  He  carries  an  erect  tail.  He  rolls  luxuriously  on 
the  soft  carpet.  He  approaches  his  mistress  in  a  series  of 
coquettish  curves.  He  smells  with  dainty  hesitation  at  the 
choicest  morsels  that*  can  be  offered  to  him.  The  musical 
monotony  of  his  purring  falls  soothingly  on  her  ladyship's  ear. 
She  stops  in  the  middle  of  a  leading  article  and  looks  with  a 
careworn  face  at  the  happy  cat.  "Upon  ray  honor,"  cries 
Lady  Janet,  thinking,  in  her  inveterately  ironical  manner,  of 
the  cares  that  trouble  her,  "all  things  considered,  Tom,  I 
wish  I  was  You  !" 

The  cat  starts — not  at  his  mistress's  complimentary  apos- 
trophe, but  at  a  knock  at  the  door,  which  follows  close  upon 
it.  Lady  Jartet  says,  carelessly  enough,  "  Come  in ;"  looks 
round  listlessly  to  see  who  it  is;  and  starts,  like  the  cat,  when 
the  door  opens  and  discloses — Julian  Gray ! 

"  You — or  your  ghost?"  she  exclaims. 

She  has  noticed  already  that  Julian  is  paler  than  usual,  and 
that  there  is  something  in  his  manner  at  once  uneasy  and  sub- 
dued -  highly  uncharacteristic  of  him  at  other  times.  ll« 
takes  a  seat  by  her  side,  and  kisses  her  hand.  But— for  the 
first  time  in  his  aunt's  experience  of  him— he  refuses  the  good 
things  on  the  luncheon-table,  and  he  has  nothing  to  say  to  the 


122  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

cat !  That  neglected  animal  takes  refuge  on  Lady  Janet's 
lap.  Lady  Janet,  with  her  eyes  fixed  expectantly  on  her 
nephew  (determining  to  "  have  it  out  of  him  "  at  the  first  op- 
portunity), waits  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say  for  himself.  Ju- 
lian has  no  alternative  but  to  break  the  silence,  and  tell  his 
story  as  he  best  may. 

"  I  got  back  from  the  Continent  last  night,"  he  began. 
"And  I  come  here,  as  I  promised,  to  report  myself  on  my 
return.  How  does  your  ladyship  do?  How  is  Miss  Rose- 
berry  ?" 

Lady  Janet  laid  an  indicative  finger  on  the  lace  pelerine 
which  ornamented  the  upper  part  of  her  dress.  "  Here  is  the 
old  lady,  well, '  she  answered — and  pointed  next  to  the  room 
above  them.  "And  there,"  she  added,  "  is  the  young  lady, 
ill.  Is  any  thing  the  matter  with  you,  Julian  ?" 

"  Perhaps  I  am  a  little  tired  after"  my  journey.  Never 
mind  me.  Is  Miss  Roseberry  still  suffering  from  the  shock?" 

"What  else  should  she  be  suffering  from?  I  will  never 
forgive  you,  Julian,  for  bringing  that  crazy  impostor  into  my 
house." 

"  My  dear  aunt,  when  I  was  the  innocent  means  of  bring- 
ing her  here  I  had  no  idea  that  such  a  person  as  Miss  Rose- 
berry  was  in  existence.  Nobody  laments  what  has  happened 
more  sincerely  than  I  do.  Have  you  had  medical  advice  ?" 

"  I  took  her  to  the  sea-side  a  week  since  by  nfedical  advice." 

"  Has  the  change  of  air  done  her  no  good  ?" 

"  None  whatever.  If  any  thing,  the  change  of  air  has 
made  her  worse.  Sometimes  she  sits  for  hours  together,  as 
pale  as  death,  without  looking  at  any  thing,  and  without  ut- 
tering a  word.  Sometimes  she  brightens  up,  and  seems  as  if 
she  was  eager  to  say  something ;  and  then,  Heaven  only  knows 
why,  checks  herself  suddenly  as  if  she  was  afraid  to  speak.  I 
could  support  that.  But  what  cuts  me  to  the  heart,  Julian, 
is,  that  she  does  not  appear  to  trust  me  and  to  love  me  as  she 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  123 

did.  She  seems  to  be  doubtful  of  me ;  she  seems  to  be  frightr 
ened  of  me.  If  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  simply  impossible 
that  such  a  thing  could  be,  I  should  really  think  she  suspect- 
ed me  of  believing  what  that  wretch  said  of  her.  In  one 
word  (and  between  ourselves),  I  begin  to  fear  she  will  never 
get  over  the  fright  which  caused  that  fainting-fit.  There  is 
serious  mischief  somewhere  ;  and,  try  as  I  may  to  discover  it, 
it  is  mischief  beyond  my  finding." 

"Can  the  doctor  do  nothing?" 

Lady  Janet's  bright  black  eyes  answered  before  she  replied 
in  words,  with  a  look  of  supreme  contempt. 

"The  doctor!"  she  repeated,  disdainfully.  "I  brought 
Grace  back  last  night  in  sheer  despair,  and  I  sent  for  the  doc- 
tor this  morning.  He  is  at  the  head  of  his  profession  ;  he  is 
said  to  be  making  ten  thousand  a  year ;  and  he  knows  no 
more  about  it  than  I  do.  I  am  quite  serious.  The  great 
physician  has  just  gone  away  with  two  guineas  in  his  pocket 
One  guinea  for  advising  me  to  keep  her  quiet ;  another  guinea 
for  telling  me  to  trust  to  time.  Do  you  wonder  how  he  gets 
on  at  this  rate  ?  My  dear  boy,  they  all  get  on  in  the  same 
way.  The  medical  profession  thrives  on  two  incurable  dis- 
eases in  these  modern  days — a  He-disease  and  a  She-disease. 
She-disease  —  nervous  depression  ;  He-disease  —  suppressed 
gout.  Remedies,  one  guinea  if  you  go  to  the  doctor ;  two 
guineas  if  the  doctor  goes  to  you.  I  might  have  bought  a 
new  bonnet,"  cried  her  ladyship,  indignantly,  "  with  the  mon- 
ey I  have  given  to  that  man !  Let  us  change  the  subject.  I 
lose  my  temper  when  I  think  of  it.  Besides,  I  want  to  know 
something.  Why  did  you  go  abroad  ?" 

At  that  plain  question  Julian  looked  unaffectedly  surprised. 
"I  wrote  to  explain,"  he  said.  "Have  you  not  nn-ivrd  my 
letter?" 

"  Oh,  I  got  your  letter.  It  was  long  enough,  in  all  con- 
science; and,  long  as  it  was,  it  didn't  tell  me  the  one  thing  I 
wanted  to  know." 


124  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

• 

"  What  is  the  '  one  thing  ?' " 

Lady  Janet's  reply  pointed — not  too  palpably  at  first— at 
that  second  motive  for  Julian's  journey  which  she  had  sus- 
pected Julian  of  concealing  from  her. 

"  I  want  to  know,"  she  said, "  why  you  troubled  yourself  to 
make  your  inquiries  on  the  Continent  in  person  f  You  know 
where  my  old  courier  is  to  be  found.  You  have  yourself  p-*o- 
nounced  him  to  be  the  most  intelligent  and  trustworthy  of 
men.  Answer  me  honestly — could  you  not  have  sent  him  in 
your  place  ?" 

"  I  might  have  sent  him,"  Julian  admitted,  a  little  reluc- 
tantly. 

"You  might  have  sent  the  courier — and  you  were  under 
an  engagement  to  stay  here  as  my  guest.  Answer  me  honest- 
ly once  more.  Why  did  you  go  away  ?" 

Julian  hesitated.  Lady  Janet  paused  for  his  reply,  with 
the  air  of  a  woman  who  was  prepared  to  wait  (if  necessary) 
for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 

"  I  had  a  reason  of  my  own  for  going,"  Julian  said  at 
last. 

"  Yes  ?"  rejoined  Lady  Janet,  prepared  to  wait  (if  neces- 
sary) till  the  next  morning. 

"A  reason,"  Julian  resumed,  " which  I  would  rather  not 
mention." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Lady  Janet.  "  Another  mystery — eh  ?  And 
another  woman  at  the  bottom  of  it,  no  doubt.  Thank  you — 
that  will  do — I  am  sufficiently  answered.  No  wonder,  as  a 
clergyman,  that  you  look  a  little  confused.  There  is,  perhaps, 
a  certain  grace,  under  the  circumstances,  in  looking  confused. 
We  will  change  the  subject  again.  You  stay  here,  of  course, 
now  you  have  come  back  ?" 

Once  more  the  famous  pulpit  orator  seemed  to  find  himself 
in  the  inconceivable  predicament  of  not  knowing  what  to  say. 
Once  more  Lady  Janet  looked  resigned  to  wait  (if  necessary) 
until  the  middle  of  next  week. 


THE    XK\V    M.VGDALBN.  125 

Julian  took  refuge  in  an  answer  worthy  of  the  most  com 
monplace  man  on  the  face  of  the  civilized  earth. 

"  I  beg  your  ladyship  to  accept  my  thanks  and  my  ex- 
cuses,"  he  said. 

Lady  Janet's  many-ringed  fingers,  mechanically  stroking 
the  cat  in  her  lap,  began  to  stroke  him  the  wrong  way.  Lady 
Janet's  inexhaustible  patience  showed  signs  of  failing  her  at 
last. 

"  Mighty  civil,  I  am  sure,"  she  said.  "  Make  it  complete. 
Say,  Mr.  Julian  Gray  presents  his  compliments  to  Lady  Janet 
Roy,  and  regrets  that  a  previous  engagement —  Julian  !"  ex- 
claimed the  old  lady,  suddenly  pushing  the  cat  off  her  lap,  and 
flinging  her  last  pretense  of  good  temper  to  the  winds — "Ju- 
lian, I  am  not  to  be  trifled  with !  There  is  but  one  expla- 
nation of  your  conduct — you  are  evidently  avoiding  my  house. 
Is  there  somebody  you  dislike  in  it  ?  Is  it  me  ?" 

Julian  intimated  by  a  gesture  that  his  aunt's  last  question 
was  absurd.  (The  much-injured  cat  elevated  his  back,  waved 
his  tail  slowly,  walked  to  the  fire-place,  and  honored  the  rug 
by  taking  a  seat  on  it.) 

Lady  Janet  persisted.  "Is  it  Grace  Roseberry?"  she  ask- 
ed next. 

Even  Julian's  patience  began  to  show  signs  of  yielding. 
His  manner  assumed  a  sudden  decision,  hie  voice  rose  a  tone 
louder. 

"You  insist  on  knowing?"  he  said.  "It  is  Miss  Rose- 
berry." 

"  You  don't  like  her  ?"  cried  Lady  Janet,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  angry  surprise. 

Julian  broke  out,  on  his  side :  "  If  I  see  any  more  of  her," 
he  answered,  the  rare  color  mounting  passionately  in  his 
cheeks, "  I  shall  be  the  unhappiest  man  living.  If  I  see  any 
more  of  her,  I  shall  be  false  to  my  old  friend,  who  is  to  marry 
her.  Keep  us  apart.  If  you  have  any  regard  for  my  peace 
of  mind,  keep  us  apart." 


126  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Unutterable  amazement  expressed  itself  in  his  aunt's  lifted 
hands.  Ungovernable  curiosity  uttered  itself  in  his  aunt's 
next  words. 

"You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you  are  in  love  with  Grace?" 

Julian  sprung  restlessly  to  his  feet,  and  disturbed  the  cat  at 
the  fire-place.  (The  cat  left  the  room.) 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  you,"  he  said ;  "  I  can't  realize 
it  to  myself.  No  other  woman  has  ever  roused  the  feeling  in 
me  which  this  woman  seems  to  have  called  to  life  in  an  in 
stant.  In  the  hope  of  forgetting  her  I  broke  my  engagement 
here ;  I  purposely  seized  the  opportunity  of  making  those  in- 
quiries abroad.  Quite  useless.  I  think  of  her,  morning,  noon, 
and  night.  I  see  her  and  hear  her,  at  this  moment,  as  plainly 
as  I  see  and  hear  you.  She  has  made  herseli  a  part  of  myself. 
I  don't  understand  my  life  without  her.  My  power  of  will 
seems  to  be  gone.  I  said  to  myself  this  morning, '  I  will  write 
to  my  aunt;  I  won't  go  back  to  Mablethorpe  House.'  Here 
I  am  in  Mablethorpe  House,  with  a  mean  subterfuge  to  justify 
me  to  my  own  conscience.  '  I  owe  it  to  my  aunt  to  call  on 
my  aunt.'  That  is  what  I  said  to  myself  on  the  way  here ; 
and  I  was  secretly  hoping  every  step  of  the  way  that  she 
would  come  into  the  room  when  I  got  here.  I  am  hoping  it 
now.  And  she  is  engaged  to  Horace  Holmcroft — to  my  old- 
est friend,  to  my* best  friend!  Am  I  an  infernal  rascal?  or 
am  I  a  weak  fool  ?  God  knows — I  don't.  Keep  my  secret, 
aunt.  I  am  heartily  ashamed  of  myself;  I  used  to  think  I 
was  made  of  better  stuff  than  this.  Don't  say  a  word  to 
Horace.  I  must,  and  will,  conquer  it.  Let  me  go." 

He  snatched  up  his  hat.  Lady  Janet,  rising  with  the  ac- 
tivity of  a  young  woman,  pursued  him  across  the  room,  and 
stopped  him  at  the  door. 

"  No,"  answered  the  resolute  old  lady,  "  I  won't  let  you  go. 
Come  back  with  me." 

As  she  said  those  words  she  noticed  with  a  certain  fond 
pride  the  brilliant  color  mounting  in  his  cheeks — the  flashing 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  127 

brightness  which  lent  an  added  lustre  to  his  eyes.  He  had 
never,  to  her  mind,  looked  so  handsome  before.  She  took  his 
arm,  and  led  him  to  the  chairs  which  they  had  just  left.  It 
was  shocking,  it  was  wrong  (she  mentally  admitted)  to  look 
on  Mercy,  under  the  circumstances,  with  any  other  eye  than 
the  eye  of  a  brother  or  a  friend.  In  a  clergyman  (perhaps) 
doubly  shocking,  doubly  wrong.  But,  with  all  her  respect  for 
the  vested  interests  of  Horace,  Lady  Janet  could  not  blame 
Julian.  Worse  still,  she  was  privately  conscious  that  he  had, 
somehow  or  other,  risen,  rather  than  fallen,  in  her  estimation 
within  the  last  minute  or  two.  Who  could  deny  that  her 
adopted  daughter  was  a  charming  creature?  Who  could 
wonder  if  a  man  of  refined  tastes  admired  her?  Upon  the 
whole,  her  ladyship  humanely  decided  that  her  nephew  was 
rather  to  be  pitied  than  blamed.  What  daughter  of  Eve  (no 
matter  whether  she  was  seventeen  or  seventy)  could  have 
honestly  arrived  at  any  other  conclusion  ?  Do  what  a  man 
may — let  him  commit  any  thing  he  likes,  from  an  error  to  a 
crime — so  long  as  there  is  a  woman  at  the  bottom  of  it,  there 
is  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  pardon  for  him  in  every  other 
woman's  heart.  "  Sit  down,"  said  Lady  Janet,  smiling  in 
spite  of  herself;  "and  don't  talk  in  that  horrible  way  again. 
A  man,  Julian — especially  a  famous  man  like  you — ought  to 
know  how  to  control  himself." 

Julian  burst  out  laughing  bitterly. 

"  Send  up  stairs  for  my  self-control,"  he  said.  "  It's  in  her 
possession — not  in  mine.  Good-morning,  aunt." 

He  rose  from  his  chair.  Lady  Janet  instantly  pushed  him 
back  into  it. 

"  I  insist  on  your  staying  here,"  she  said,  "  if  it  is  only  for 
a  few  minutes  longer.  I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

"  Does  it  refer  to  Miss  Rosebern  ?" 

"  It  refers  to  the  hateful  woman  who  frightened  Miss  Rose- 
berry.  Now  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

Julian  bowed,  and  settled  himself  in  his  chair. 


128  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN". 

"  I  don't  much  like  to  acknowledge  it,"  his  aunt  went  on. 
"  But  I  want  you  to  understand  that  I  have  something  really 
serious  to  speak  about,  for  once  in  a  way.  Julian !  that 
wretch  not  only  frightens  Grace — she  actually  frightens  me." 

"  Frightens  you  ?     She  is  quite  harmless,  poor  thing." 

"'Poor  thing!'"  repeated  Lady  Janet.  "Did  you  say 
« poor  thing?'" 

"Yes." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  you  pity  her  ?" 

"  From  the  Itottom  of  my  heart." 

The  old  lady's  temper  gave  way  again  at  that  reply.  "I 
hate  a  man  who  can't  hate  any  body !"  she  burst  out.  "  If 
you  had  been  an  ancient  Roman,  Julian,  I  believe  you  would 
have  pitied  Nero  himself." 

Julian  cordially  agreed  with  her.  "  I  believe  I  should,"  he 
said,  quietly.  "All  sinners,  my  dear  aunt,  are  more  or  less 
miserable  sinners.  Nero  must  have  been  one  of  the  wretch- 
edest  of  mankind." 

"  Wretched  !"  exclaimed  Lady  Janet.  "  Nero  wretched ! 
A  man  who  committed  robbery,  arson,  and  murder  to  his  own 
violin  accompaniment — only  wretched  !  What  next,  I  won- 
der? When  modern  philanthropy  begins  to  apologize  for 
Nero,  modern  philanthropy  has  arrived  at  a  pretty  pass  in- 
deed !  We  shall  hear  next  that  Bloody  Queen  Mary  was  as 
playf  til  as  a  kitten  ;  and  if  poor  dear  Henry  the  Eighth  carried 
any  thing  to  an  extreme,  it  was  the  practice  of  the  domestic 
virtues.  Ah,  how  I  hate  cant !  What  were  we  talking  about 
]ust  now?  You  wander  from  the  subject,  Julian;  you  are 
what  I  call  bird-witted.  I  protest  I  forget  what  I  wanted  to 
say  to  you.  No,  I  won't  be  reminded  of  it.  I  may  be  an  old 
woman,  but  I  am  not  in  my  dotage  yet !  Why  do  you  sit 
there  staring?  Have  you  nothing  to  say  for  yourself?  Of 
all  the  people  in  the  world,  have  you,  lost  the  use  of  your 
tongue  ?" 

Julian's  excellent  temper  and  accurate  knowledge  of  his 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  129 

mint's  character  exactly  fitted  him  to  calm  the  rising  storm. 
He  contrived  to  lead  Lady  Janet  insensibly  back  to  the  lost 
subject  by  dexterous  reference  to  a  narrative  which  he  lud 
thus  far  left  untold — the  narrative  of  his  adventures  on  the 
Continent. 

"  I  have  a  great  deal  to  say,  aunt,"  he  replied.  "  I  have 
not  yet  told  you  of  my  discoveries  abroad." 

Lady  Janet  instantly  took  the  bait. 

"  I  knew  there  was  something  forgotten,"  she  said.  "You 
have  been  all  this  time  in  the  house,  and  you  have  told  me 
nothing.  Begin  directly." 

Patient  Julian  began. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

COMING   EVENTS    CAST   THEIR   SHADOWS    BEFORE. 

"  I  WENT  first  to  Mannheim,  Lady  Janet,  as  I  told  you  I 
should  in  my  letter,  and  I  heard  all  that  the  consul  and  the 
hospital  doctors  could  tell  me.  No  new  fact  of  the  slightest 
importance  turned  up.  I  got  my  directions  for  finding  the 
German  surgeon,  and  I  set  forth  to  try  what  I  could  make 
next  of  the  man  who  had  performed  the  operation.  On  the 
question  of  his  patient's  identity  he  had  (as  a  perfect  stranger 
to  her)  nothing  to  tell  me.  On  the  question  of  her  mental 
condition,  however,  he  made  a  very  important  statement.  He 
owned  to  me  that  he  had  operated  on  another  person  injured 
by  a  shell- wound  on  the  head  at  the  battle  of  Solferino,  and 
that  the  patient  (recovering  also  in  this  case)  recovered — mad. 
That  is  a  remarkable  admission ;  don't  you  think  so  ?" 

Lady  Janet's  temper  had  hardly  been  allowed  time  enough 
to  subside  to  its  customary  level. 

"  Very  remarkable,  I  dare  say,"  she  answered, "  to  people 
who  feel  any  doubt  of  this  pitiable  lady  of  yours  being  mad. 
I  feel  no  doubt— and,  thus  far,  I  find  your  account  of  your- 


130  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

self,  Julian,  tiresome  in  the  extreme.  Get  on  to  the  end. 
Did  you  lay  your  hand  on  Mercy  Merrick  ?" 

"No." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  thing  of  her  ?" 

"  Nothing.  Difficulties  beset  me  on  every  side.  The  French 
ambulance  had  shared  in  the  disasters  of  France  —  it  was 
broken  up.  The  wounded  Frenchmen  were  prisoners  some- 
where in  Germany,  nobody  knew  where.  The  French  sur- 
geon had  been  killed  in  action.  His  assistants  were  scattered 
— most  likely  in  hiding.  I  began  to  despair  of  making  any 
discovery,  when  accident  threw  in  my  way  two  Prussian 
soldiers  who  had  been  in  the  French  cottage.  They  confirm- 
ed what  the  German  surgeon  told  the  consul,  and  what  Hor- 
ace himself  told  me — namely,  that  no  nurse  in  a  black  dress 
was  to  be  seen  in  the  place.  If  there  had  been  such  a  per- 
son, she  would  certainly  (the  Prussians  inform  me)  have  been 
found  in  attendance  on  the  injured  Frenchmen.  The  cross  of 
the  Geneva  Convention  would  have  been  amply  sufficient  to 
protect  her :  no  woman  wearing  that  badge  of  honor  would 
have  disgraced  herself  by  abandoning  the  wounded  men  be- 
fore the  Germans  entered  the  place." 

"  In  short,"  interposed  Lady  Janet, "  there  is  no  such  per- 
son as  Mercy  Merrick." 

"  I  can  draw  no  other  conclusion,"  said  Julian, "  unless  the 
English  doctor's  idea  is  the  right  one.  After  hearing  what 
I  have  just  told  you,  he  thinks  the  woman  herself  is  Mercy 
Merrick." 

Lady  Janet  held  up  her  hand  as  a  sign  that  she  had  an  ob- 
jection to  make  here. 

"You  and  the  doctor  seem  to  have  settled  every  thing  to 
your  entire  satisfaction  on  both  sides,"  she  said.  "  But  there 
is  one  difficulty  that  you  have  neither  of  you  accounted  for 
yet." 

"  What  is  it,  aunt  ?" 

"  You  talk  glibly  enough,  Julian,  about  this  woman's  mad 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  131 

assertion  that  Grace  is  the  missing  nurse,  and  that  she  is 
Grace.  But  you  have  not  explained  yet  how  the  idea  first 
got  into  her  head ;  and,  more  than  that,  how  it  is  that  she  is 
acquainted  with  my  name  and  address,  and  perfectly  familiar 
with  Grace's  papers  and  Grace's  affairs.  These  things  are 
a  puzzle  to  a  person  of  my  average  intelligence.  Can  your 
clever  friend,  the  doctor,  account  for  them  ?" 

"Shall  I  tell  you  what  he  said  when  I  saw  him  this  morning?" 

"Will  it  take  long?" 

"It  will  take  about  a  minute." 

"  You  agreeably  surprise  me.     Go  on." 

"You  want  to  know  how  she  gained  her  knowledge  of 
your  name  and  of  Miss  Roseberry's  affairs,"  Julian  resumed. 
"The  doctor  says  in  one  of  two  ways.  Either  Miss  Roseber- 
ry  must  have  spoken  of  you  and  of  her  own  affairs  while  she 
and  the  stranger  were  together  in  the  French  cottage,  or  the 
stranger  must  have  obtained  access  privately  to  Miss  Roseber- 
ry's papers.  Do  you  agree  so  far  ?" 

Lady  Janet  began  to  feel  interested  for  the  first  time. 

"  Perfectly,"  she  said.  "  I  have  no  doubt  Grace  rashly  talk- 
ed of  matters  which  an  older  and  wiser  person  would  have 
kept  to  herself." 

"Very  good.  Do  you  also  agree  that  the  last  idea  in  the 
woman's  mind  when  she  was  struck  by  the  shell  might  have 
been  (quite  probably)  the  idea  of  Miss  Roseberry's  identity 
and  Miss  Roseberry's  affairs?  You  think  it  likely  enough? 
Well,  what  happens  after  that  ?  The  wounded  woman  is 
brought  to  life  by  an  operation,  and  she  becomes  delirious 
in  the  hospital  at  Mannheim.  During  her  delirium  the  idea 
of  Miss  Roseberry's  identity  ferments  in  her  brain,  and  as- 
sumes its  present  perverted  form.  In  that  form  it  still  re- 
mains. As  a  necessary  consequence,  she  persists  in  reversing 
the  two  identities.  She  says  she  is  Miss  Roseberry,  and  de- 
clares Miss  Roseberry  to  be  Mercy  Merrick.  There  is  the 
doctor's  explanation.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 


132  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Very  ingenious,  I  dare  say.  The  doctor  doesn't  quite 
satisfy  me,  however,  for  all  that.  I  think — ' 

What  Lady  Janet  thought  was  not  destined  to  be  express- 
ed. She  suddenly  checked  herself,  and  held  up  her  hand  for 
the  second  time. 

"Another  objection?"  inquired  Julian. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !"  cried  the  old  lady.  "  If  you  say  a 
word  more  I  shall  lose  it  again." 

"Lose  what,  aunt?" 

"  What  I  wanted  to  say  to  you  ages  ago.  I  have  got  it 
back  again  —  it  begins  with  a  question.  (No  more  of  the 
doctor — I  have  had  enough  of  him  !)  Where  is  she — your 
pitiable  lady,  my  crazy  wretch — where  is  she  now  ?  Still  in 
London  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  still  at  large?" 

"  Still  with  the  landlady,  at  her  lodgings." 

"  Very  well.  Now  answer  me  this  !  What  is  to  prevent 
her  from  making  another  attempt  to  force  her  way  (or  steal 
her  way)  into  my  house  ?  How  am  I  to  protect  Grace,  how 
am  I  to  protect  myself,  if  she  comes  here  again  ?" 

"  Is  that  really  what  you  wished  to  speak  to  me  about  ?" 

"  That,  and  nothing  else." 

They  were  both  too  deeply  interested  in  the  subject/  of 
their  conversation  to  look  toward  the  conservatory,  and  to 
notice  the  appearance  at  that  moment  of  a  distant  gentleman 
among  the  plants  and  flowers,  who  had  made  his  way  in  from 
the  garden  outside.  Advancing  noiselessly  on  the  soft  In- 
dian matting,  the  gentleman  ere  long  revealed  himself  under 
the  form  and  features  of  Horace  Holmcroft.  Before  enter- 
ing the  dining-room  he  paused,  fixing  his  eyes  inquisitively 
on  the  back  of  Lady  Janet's  visitor — the  back  being  all  that 
he  could  see  in  the  position  he  then  occupied.  After  a  pause 
of  an  instant  the  visitor  spoke,  and  further  uncertainty  was 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  13b 

at  once  at  an  end.  Horace,  nevertheless,  made  no  movement 
10  enter  the  room.  He  had  his  own  jealous  distrust  of  what 
Julian  might  be  tempted  to  say  at  a  private  interview  with 
his  aunt ;  and  he  waited  a  little  longer  on  the  chance  that  his 
doubts  might  be  verified. 

"  Neither  you  nor  Miss  Roseberry  need  any  protection  from 
the  poor  deluded  creature,"  Julian  went  on.  "  I  have  gained 
great  influence  over  her — and  I  have  satisfied  her  that  it  is 
useless  to  present  herself  here  again." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  interposed  Horace,  speaking  from 
the  conservatory  door.  "  You  have  done  nothing  of  the  sort." 

(He  had  heard  enough  to  satisfy  him  that  the  talk  was  not 
taking  the  direction  which  his  suspicions  had  anticipated. 
And,  as  an  additional  incentive  to  show  himself,  a  happy 
jhance  had  now  offered  him  the  opportunity  of  putting  Ju- 
lian in  the  wrong.) 

"  Good  heavens,  Horace !"  exclaimed  Lady  Janet.  "  Where 
did  you  come  from?  And  what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  heard  at  the  lodge  that  your  ladyship  and  Grace  had 
returned  last  night.  And  I  came  in  at  once,  without  trou- 
bling the  servants,  by  the  shortest  way."  He  turned  to  Julian 
next.  "  The  woman  you  were  speaking  of  just  now,"  he  pro- 
ceeded, "  has  been  here  again  already — in  Lady  Janet's  ab- 
sence." 

Lady  Janet  immediately  looked  at  her  nephew.  Julian  re- 
assured her  by  a  gesture. 

"  Impossible,"  he  said.     "  There  must  be  some  mistake." 

"  There  is  no  mistake,"  Horace  rejoined.  "  I  am  repeating 
tvhat  I  have  just  heard  from  the  lodge-keeper  himself.  He 
hesitated  to  mention  it  to  Lady  Janet  for  fear  of  alarming 
her.  Only  three  days  since  this  person  had  the  audacity  to 
%sk  him  for  her  ladyship's  address  at  the  sea-side.  Of  course 
he  refused  to  give  it." 

"You  hear  that,  Julian?"  said  Lady  Janet. 

No  signs  of  anger  or  mortification  escaped  Julian.     The 


134  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

expression  in  his  face  at  that  moment  was  an  expression  of 
sincere  distress. 

"  Pray  don't  alarm  yourself,"  he  said  to  his  aunt,  in  his  qui- 
etest tones.  "If  she  attempts  to  annoy  you  or  Miss  Rose- 
berry  again,  I  have  it  in  my  power  to  stop  her  instantly." 

"  How  ?"  asked  Lady  Janet. 

"  How,  indeed  !"  echoed  Horace.  "  If  we  give  her  in  charge 
to  the  police,  we  shall  become  the  subject  of  a  public  scandal." 

"  I  have  managed  to  avoid  all  danger  of  scandal,"  Julian  an- 
swered ;  the  expression  of  distress  in  his  face  becoming  more 
and  more  marked  while  he  spoke.  "  Before  I  called  here  to- 
day I  had  a  private  consultation  with  the  magistrate  of  the 
district,  and  I  have  made  certain  arrangements  at  the  police 
station  close  by.  On  receipt  of  my  card,  an  experienced  man, 
in  plain  clothes,  will  present  himself  at  any  address  that  I  in- 
dicate, and  will  take  her  quietly  away.  The  magistrate  will 
hear  the  charge  in  his  private  room,  and  will  examine  the  evi- 
dence which  I  can  produce,  showing  that  she  is  not  account- 
able for  her  actions.  The  proper  medical  officer  will  report 
officially  on  the  case,  and  the  law  will  place  her  under  the 
necessary  restraint." 

Lady  Janet  and  Horace  looked  at  each  other  in  amazement. 
Julian  was,  in  their  opinion,  the  last  man  on  earth  to  take 
the  course — at  once  sensible  and  severe — which  Julian  had 
actually  adopted.  Lady  Janet  insisted  on  an  explanation. 

"  Why  do  I  hear  of  this  now  for  the  first  time  ?"  she  ask- 
ed. "  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  you  had  taken  these  precau- 
tions before  ?" 

Julian  answered  frankly  and  sadly. 

"  Because  I  hoped,  aunt,  that  there  would  be  no  necessity 
for  proceeding  to  extremities.  You  now  force  me  to  acknowl- 
edge that  the  lawyer  and  the  doctor  (both  of  whom  I  have 
seen  this  morning)  think,  as  you  do,  that  she  is  not  to  be 
trusted.  It  was  at  their  suggestion  entirely  that  I  went  to 
the  magistrate.  They  put  it  to  uie  whether  the  result  of  my 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  135 

inquiries  abroad — unsatisfactory  as  it  may  have  been  in  other 
respects — did  not  strengthen  the  conclusion  that  the  poor 
woman's  mind  is  deranged.  I  felt  compelled  in  common 
honesty  to  admit  that  it  was  so.  Having  owned  this,  I  was 
bound  to  take  such  precautions  as  the  lawyer  and  the  doctor 
thought  necessary.  I  have  done  my  duty — sorely  against  my 
own  will.  It  is  weak  of  me,  I  dare  say ;  but  I  can  not  bear 
the  thought  of  treating  this  afflicted  creature  harshly.  Her 
delusion  is  so  hopeless  !  her  situation  is  such  a  pitiable  one !" 

His  voice  faltered.  He  turned  away  abruptly  and  took  up 
his  hat.  Lady  Janet  followed  him,  and  spoke  to  him  at  the 
door.  Horace  smiled  satirically,  and  went  to  warm  himself 
at  the  fire. 

"Are  you  going  away,  Julian?" 

"  I  am  only  going  to  the  lodge-keeper.  I  want  to  give  him 
a  word  of  .warning  in  case  of  his  seeing  her  again." 

"You  will  come  back  here?"  (Lady  Janet  lowered  her 
voice  to  a  whisper.)  "  There  is  really  a  reason,  Julian,  for 
your  not  leaving  the  house  now." 

"  I  promise  not  to  go  away,  aunt,  until  I  have  provided  for 
your  security.  If  you,  or  your  adopted  daughter,  are  alarmed 
by  another  intrusion;  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  my  card 
shall  go  to  the  police  station,  however  painfully  I  may  feel 
it  myself."  (He,  too,  lowered  his  voice  at  the  next  words.) 
"  In  the  mean  time,  remember  what  I  confessed  to  you  while 
we  were  alone.  For  my  sake,  let  me  see  as  little  of  Miss 
Roseberry  as  possible.  Shall  I  find  you  in  this  room  when  I 
come  back?" 

"  Yes." 

"Alone?" 

He  laid  a  strong  emphasis,  of  look  as  well  as  of  tone,  on 
that  one  word.  Lady  Janet  understood  what  the  emphasis 
meant. 

"  Are  yon  really,"  she  whispered,  "  as  much  in  love  with 
Grace  as  that?" 


136  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Julian  laid  one  hand  on  his  aunt's  arm,  and  pointed  with 
the  other  to  Horace— standing  with  his  back  to  them,  warm- 
ing his  feet  on  the  fender. 

"  Well  ?"  said  Lady  Janet. 

"  Well,"  said  Julian,  with  a  smile  on  his  lip  and  a  tear  in 
his  eye, "  I  never  envied  any  man  as  I  envy  himf" 

With  those  words  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A  WOMAN'S  REMORSE. 

HAVING  warmed  his  feet  to  his  own  entire  satisfaction, 
Horace  turned  round  from  the  fire-place,  and  discovered  that 
he  and  Lady  Janet  were  alone. 

"  Can  I  see  Grace  ?"  he  asked. 

The  easy  tone  in  which  he  put  the  question — a  tone,  as  it 
were,  of  proprietorship  in  "  Grace" — jarred  on  Lady  Janet  at 
the  moment.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  she  found  herself 
comparing  Horace  with  Julian  —  to  Horace's  disadvantage. 
He  was  rich ;  he  was  a  gentleman  of  ancient  lineage ;  he  bore 
an  unblemished  character.  But  who  had  the  strong  brain? 
who  had  the  great  heart  ?  Which  was  the  Man  of  the  two  ? 

"  Nobody  can  see  her,"  answered  Lady  Janet.  "  Not  even 
you !" 

The  tone  of  the  reply  was  sharp,  with  a  dash  of  irony  in  it. 
But  where  is  the  modern  young  man,  possessed  of  health  and 
an  independent  income,  who  is  capable  of  understanding  that 
irony  can  be  presumptuous  enough  to  address  itself  to  him? 
Horace  (with  perfect  politeness)  declined  to  consider  himself 
answered. 

"  Does  your  ladyship  mean  that  Miss  Roseberry  is  in  bed?" 
he  asked. 

"  I  mean  that  Miss  Roseberry  is  in  her  room.  I  mean  that 
I  have  twice  tried  to  persuade  Miss  Roseberry  to  dress  and 


THE    XEW   MAGDALEX.  137 

some  down  stairs,  and  tried  in  vain.  I  mean  that  what  Miss 
Roseberry  refuses  to  do  for  Me,  she  is  not  likely  to  do  for 
You—" 

How  many  more  meanings  of  her  own  Lady  Janet  might 
have  gone  on  enumerating,  it  is  not  easy  to  calculate.  At  her 
third  sentence  a  sound  in  the  library  caught  her  ear  through 
the  incompletely  closed  door,  and  suspended  the  next  words 
on  her  lips.  Horace  heard  it  also.  It  was  the  rustling  sound 
(traveling  nearer  and  nearer  over  the  library  carpet)  of  a  silk- 
en dress. 

(In  the  interval  while  a  coming  event  remains  in  a  state  of 
uncertainty,  what  is  it  the  inevitable  tendency  of  every  En- 
glishman under  thirty  to  do?  His  inevitable  tendency  is  to 
ask  somebody  to  bet  on  the  event.  He  can  no  more  resist  it 
than  he  can  resist  lifting  his  stick  or  his  umbrella,  in  the  ab- 
sence of  a  gun,  and  pretending  to  shoot  if  a  bird  flies  by  him 
while  he  is  out  for  a  walk.) 

"  What  will  your  ladyship  bet  that  this  is  not  Grace  ?"  cried 
Horace. 

Her  ladyship  took  no  notice  of  the  proposal ;  her  attention 
remained  fixed  on  the  library  door.  The  rustling  sound  stop- 
ped for  a  moment.  The  door  was  softly  pushed  open.  The 
false  Grace  Roseberry  entered  the  room. 

Horace  advanced  to  meet  her,  opened  his  lips  to  speak,  and 
stopped — struck  dumb  by  the  change  in  his  affianced  wife 
since  he  had  seen  her  last.  Some  terrible  oppression  seemed 
to  have  crushed  her.  It  was  as  if  she  had  actually  shrunk  in 
height  as  well  as  in  substance.  She  walked  more  slowly  than 
usual ;  she  spoke  more  rare'y  than  usual,  and  in  a  lower  tone. 
To  those  who  had  seen  hei1  before  the  fatal  visit  of  the  stran- 
ger from  Mannheim,  it  was  the  wreck  of  the  woman  that  now 
appeared  instead  of  the  woman  herself.  And  yet  there  was 
the  old  charm  still  surviving  through  it  all;  the  grandeur  of 
the  head  and  eyes,  the  delicate  symmetry  of  the  features,  the 
unsought  grace  of  every  movement — in  a  word,  the  unconquer- 


138  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

able  beauty  which  suffering  can  not  destroy,  and  which  time 
itself  is  powerless  to  wear  out. 

Lady  Janet  advanced,  and  took  her  with  hearty  kindness 
by  both  hands. 

"  My  dear  child,  welcome  among  us  again  !  You  have 
come  down  stairs  to  please  me  ?" 

She  bent  her  head  in  silent  acknowledgment  that  it  was  so. 
Lady  Janet  pointed  to  Horace :  "  Here  is  somebody  who  has 
been  longing  to  see  you,  Grace." 

She  never  looked  up ;  she  stood  submissive,  her  eyes  fixed 
on  a  little  basket  of  colored  wools  which  hung  on  her  arm. 
"  Thank  you,  Lady  Janet,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  Thank  you, 
Horace." 

Horace  placed  her  arm  in  his,  and  led  her  to  the  sofa.  She 
shivered  as  she  took  her  seat,  and  looked  round  her.  It  was 
the  first  time  she  had  seen  the  dining-room  since  the  day 
when  she  had  found  herself  face  to  face  with  the  dead-alive. 

"  Why  do  you  come  here,  my  love  ?"  asked  Lady  Janet. 
"  The  drawing-room  would  have  been  a  warmer  and  a  pleas- 
anter  place  for  you." 

"  I  saw  a  carriage  at  the  front-door.  I  was  afraid  of  meet- 
ing with  visitors  in  the  drawing-room." 

As  she  made  that  reply,  the  servant  came  in,  and  announced 
the  visitors'  names.  Lady  Janet  sighed  wearily.  "I  must 
go  and  get  rid  of  them,"  she  said,  resigning  herself  to  cir- 
cumstances. "  What  will  you  do,  Grace  ?" 

"  I  will  stay  here,  if  you  please." 

"  I  will  keep  her  company,"  added  Horace. 

Lady  Janet  hesitated.  She  had  promised  to  see  her  neph- 
ew in  the  dining-room  on  his  return  to  the  house — and  to  see 
him  alone.  Would  there  be  time  enough  to  get  rid  of  the 
visitors  and  to  establish  her  adopted  daughter  in  the  empty 
drawing-room  before  Julian  appeared  ?  It  was  ten  minutes' 
walk  to  the  lodge,  and  he  had  to  make  the  gate-keeper  under- 
stand his  instructions.  Lady  Janet  decided  that  she  had  time 


THE   NEW    MAGDAI.KN.  139 

enough  at  her  disposal.  She  nodded  kindly  to  Mercy,  and 
left  her  alone  with  her  lover. 

Horace  seated  himself  in  the  vacant  place  on  the  sofa.  So 
far  as  it  was  in  his  nature  to  devote  himself  to  any  one  he 
was  devoted  to  Mercy.  "  I  am  grieved  to  see  how  you  have 
suffered,"  he  said,  with  honest  distress  in  his  face  as  he  looked 
at  her.  "  Try  to  forget  what  has  happened." 

"  I  am  trying  to  forget.     Do  you  think  of  it  much  ?" 

"  My  darling,  it  is  too  contemptible  to  be  thought  of." 

She  placed  her  work-basket  on  her  lap.  Her  wasted  fin- 
gers began  absently  sorting  the  wools  inside. 

"  Have  you  seen  Mr.  Julian  Gray?"  she  asked,  suddenly. 

"  Yes." 

"  What  does  he  say  about  it?"  She  looked  at  Horace  for 
the  first  time,  steadily  scrutinizing  his  face.  Horace  took 
refuge  in  prevarication. 

"  I  really  haven't  asked  for  Julian's  opinion,"  he  said. 

She  looked  down  again,  with  a  sigh,  at  the  basket  on  her 
lap — considered  a  little — and  tried  him  once  more. 

"  Why  has  Mr.  Julian  Gray  not  been  here  for  a  whole 
week  ?"  she  went  on.  "  The  servants  say  he  has  been  abroad. 
Is  that  true  ?" 

It  was  useless  to  deny  it.  Horace  admitted  that  the  serv- 
ants were  right. 

Her  fingers  suddenly  stopped  at  their  restless  work  among 
the  wools;  her  breath  quickened  perceptibly.  What  had 
Julian  Gray  been  doing  abroad?  Had  he  been  making  in- 
quiries? Did  he  alone,  of  all  the  people  who  saw  that  terri- 
ble meeting,  suspect  her?  Yes!  His  was  the  finer  intelli- 
gence ;  his  was  a  clergyman's  (a  London  clergyman's)  expe- 
rience of  frauds  and  deceptions,  and  of  the  women  who  were 
guilty  of  them.  Not  a  doubt  of  it  now !  Julian  suspected 
her. 

"  When  docs  he  come  back  ?"  she  asked,  in  tones  so  low 
that  Horace  could  barelv  hoar  her. 


140  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  He  has  come  back  already.     He  returned  last  night." 

A  faint  shade  of  color  stole  slowly  over  the  pallor  of  her 
face.  She  suddenly  put  her  basket  away,  and  clasped  her 
hands  together  to  quiet  the  trembling  of  them,  before  she 
asked  her  next  question. 

"  Where  is —  She  paused  to  steady  her  voice.  "  Where 
is  the  person,"  she  resumed, "  who  came  here  and  frightened 
me?" 

Horace  hastened  to  re-assure  her.  "  The  person  will  not 
come  again,"  he  said.  "  Don't  talk  of  her !  Don't  think  of 
her  !" 

She  shook  her  head.  "  There  is  something  I  want  to  know, ' 
she  persisted.  "  How  did  Mr.  Julian  Gray  become  acquaint- 
ed with  her  ?" 

This  was  easily  answered.  Horace  mentioned  the  consul 
at  Mannheim,  and  the  letter  of  introduction.  She  listened 
eagerly,  and  said  her  next  words  in  a  louder,  firmer  tone. 

"  She  was  quite  a  stranger,  then,  to  Mr.  Julian  Gray — be- 
fore that?" 

"  Quite  a  stranger,"  Horace  replied.  "  No  more  questions 
— not  another  word  about  her,  Grace !  I  forbid  the  subject. 
Come,  my  own  love !"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  and  bending 
over  her  tenderly,  "  rally  your  spirits  !  We  are  young — we 
love  each  other — now  is  our  time  to  be  happy !" 

Her  hand  turned  suddenly  cold,  and  trembled  in  his.  Her 
head  sank  with  a  helpless  weariness  on  her  breast.  Horace 
rose  in  alarm. 

"  You  are  cold — you  are  faint,"  he  said.  "Let  me  get  you 
a  glass  of  wine  ! — let  me  mend  the  fire  !" 

The  decanters  were  still  on  the  luncheon-table.  Horace  in- 
sisted on  her  drinking  some  port-wine.  She  barely  took  half 
the  contents  of  the  wine-glass.  Even  that  little  told  on  her 
sensitive  organization ;  it  roused  her  sinking  energies  of  body 
and  mind.  After  watching  her  anxiously,  without  attracting 
her  notice,  Horace  left  her  again  to  attend  to  the  fire  at  the 


THK    NEW    MAGDALEN.  141 

other  end  of  the  room.  Her  eyes  followed  him  slowly  with 
a  hard  and  tearless  despair.  "  Rally  your  spirits,"  she  n-pi-at- 
ed  to  herself  in  a  whisper.  "My  spirits!  O  God!"  She 
looked  round  her  at  the  luxury  and  beauty  of  the  room,  as 
those  look  who  take  their  leave  of  familiar  scenes.  The  me 
ment  after,  her  eyes  sank,  and  rested  on  the  rich  dress  that 
she  wore— a  gift  from  Lady  Janet,  She  thought  of  the  past; 
she  thought  of  the  future.  Was  the  time  near  when  she 
would  be  back  again  in  the  Refuge,  or  back  again  in  the 
streets  ? — she  who  had  been  Lady  Janet's  adopted  daughter, 
and  Horace  Holmcroft's  betrothed  wife  !  A  sudden  frenzy  of 
recklessness  seized  on  her  as  she  thought  of  the  coming  end. 
Horace  was  right !  Why  not  rally  her  spirits  ?  Why  not 
make  the  most  of  her  time  ?  The  last  hours  of  her  life  in 
that  house  were  at  hand.  Why  not  enjoy  her  stolen  position 
while  she  could?  "Adventuress  !"  whispered  the  mocking 
spirit  within  her,  "  be  true  to  your  character.  Away  with 
your  remorse !  Remorse  is  the  luxury  of  an  honest  woman." 
She  caught  up  her  basket  of  wools,  inspired  by  a  new  idea. 
"  Ring  the  bell !"  she  cried  out  to  Horace  at  the  fire-place. 

He  looked  round  in  wonder.  The  sound  of  her  voice  was 
so  completely  altered  that  he  almost  fancied  there  must  have 
been  another  woman  in  the  room. 

"  Ring  the  bell !"  she  repeated.  "  I  have  left  my  work  up 
stairs.  If  you  want  me  to  be  in  good  spirits,  I  must  have  my 
work." 

Still  looking  at  her,  Horace  put  his  hand  mechanically  to 
the  bell  and  rang.  One  of  the  men-servants  came  in. 

"  Go  up  stairs  and  ask  my  maid  for  my  work,"  she  said, 
sharply.  Even  the  man  was  taken  by  surprise :  it  was  her 
habit  to  speak  to  the  servants  with  a  gentleness  and  consid- 
eration which  had  long  since  won  all  their  hearts.  "  Do  you 
hear  me  ?"  she  asked,  impatiently.  The  servant  bowed,  and 
went  out  on  his  errand.  She  turned  to  Horace  with  flashing 

eyes  and  fevered  cheeks. 

7 


142  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"What  a  comfort  it  is,"  she  said,  "-to  belong  to  the  upper 
classes !  A  poor  woman  has  no  maid  to  dress  her,  and  no 
footman  to  send  up  stairs.  Is  life  worth  having,  Horace,  on 
less  than  five  thousand  a  year  ?"  • 

The  servant  returned  with  a  strip  of  embroidery.  She  took 
it  with  an  insolent  grace,  and  told  him  to  bring  her  a  foot- 
stool. The  man  obeyed.  She  tossed  the  embroidery  away 
from  her  on  the  sofa.  "  On  second  thoughts,  I  don't  care 
about  my  work,"  she  said.  "  Take  it  up  stairs  again."  The 
perfectly  trained  servant,  marveling  privately,  obeyed  once 
more.  Horace,  in  silent  astonishment,  advanced  to  the  sofa 
to  observe  her  more  nearly.  "  How  grave  you  look  !"  she  ex- 
claimed, with  an  air  of  flippant  unconcern.  "  You  don't  ap- 
prove of  my  sitting  idle,  perhaps?  Any  thing  to  please  you  ! 
I  haven't  got  to  go  up  and  down  stairs.  Ring  the  bell 
again." 

"  My  dear  Grace,"  Horace  remonstrated,  gravely, "  you  are 
quite  mistaken.  I  never  even  thought  of  your  work." 

"  Never  mind ;  it's  inconsistent  to  send  for  my  work,  and 
then  send  it  away  again.  Ring  the  bell." 

Horace  looked  at  her  without  moving.  "  Grace,"  he  said, 
"  what  has  come  to  you  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know  ?"  she  retorted,  carelessly.  "  Didn't 
you  tell  me  to  rally  my  spirits  ?  Will  you  ring  the  bell,  or 
must  I  ?"  , 

Horace  submitted.  He  frowned  as  lie  walked  back  to  the 
bell.  He  was  one  of  the  many  people  who  instinctively  re- 
sent any  thing  that  is  new  to  them.  This  strange  outbreak 
was  quite  new  to  him.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  felt 
sympathy  for  a  servant,  when  the  much-enduring  man  ap- 
peared once  more. 

"  Bring  my  work  back  ;  I  have  changed  my  mind."  With 
that  brief  explanation  she  reclined  luxuriously  on  the  soft 
sofa-cushions,  swinging  one  of  her  balls  of  wool  to  and  fro 
above  her  head,  and  looking  at  it  lazily  as  she  lay  back.  "  I 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  148 

have  a  remark  to  make,  Horace,"  she  went  on,  when  the  door 
had  closed  on  her  messenger.  "  It  \s  only  people  in  our  rank 
of  life  who  get  good  servants.  Did  you  notice  ?  Nothing 
upsets  that  man's  temper.  A  servant  in  a  poor  family  would 
have  been  impudent ;  a  maid-of-.ill-work  would  have  wonder- 
ed when  I  was  going  to  know  my  own  mind."  The  man 
returned  with  the  embroidery.  This  time  she  received  him 
graciously;  she  dismissed  him  with  her  thanks.  "Have  you 
seen  your  mother  lately,  Horace  ?"  she  asked,  suddenly  sit- 
ting up  and  busying  herself  with  her  work, 

"  I  saw  her  yesterday,"  Horace  answered. 

"  She  understands,  I  hope,  that  I  am  not  well  enough  to  call 
on  her  ?  She  is  not  offended  with  me  ?" 

Horace  recovered  his  serenity.  The  deference  to  his  moth- 
er implied  in  Mercy's  questions  gently  flattered  his  self-esteem. 
He  resumed  his  place  on  the  sofa. 

"  Offended  with  you  !"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  My  dear 
Qrace,  she  sends  you  her  love.  And,  more  than  that,  she  has 
a  wedding  present  for  you." 

Mercy  became  absorbed  in  her  work ;  she  stooped  close 
over  the  embroidery — so  close  that  Horace  could  not  see  her 
face.  "Do  you  know  what  the  present  is?"  she  asked,  in 
lowered  tones,  speaking  absently. 

"  No.  I  only  know  it  is  waiting  for  you.  Shall  I  go  and 
get  it  to-day  ?" 

She  neither  accepted  nor  refused  the  proposal — she  went  on 
with  her  work  more  industriously  than  ever. 

"  There  is  plenty  of  time,"  Horace  persisted.  "  I  can  go 
before  dinner." 

Still  she  took  no  notice :  still  she  never  looked  up.  "  Year 
mother  is  very  kind  to  me,"  she  said,  abruptly.  "I  was 
afraid,  at  one  time,  that  she  would  think  me  hardly  good 
enough  to  be  your  wife." 

Horace  laughed  indulgently  :  his  self-esteem  was  more  gen- 
tly flattered  than  ever. 


144  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"Absurd!"  he  exclaimed.  "My  darling,  you  are  connect- 
ed with  Lady  Janet  Roy.  Your  family  is  almost  as  good  as 
ours." 

"Almost?"  she  repeated.     "Only  almost?" 

The  momentary  levity  of  expression  vanished  from  Hor- 
ace's face.  The  family  question  was  far  too  serious  a  ques- 
tion to  be  lightly  treated.  A  becoming  shadow  of  solemnity 
stole  over  his  manner.  He  looked  as  if  it  was  Sunday,  and  he 
was  just  stepping  into  church. 

"  In  OUR  family,"  he  said,  "  we  trace  back — by  my  father, 
to  the  Saxons;  by  my  mother,  to  the  Normans.  Lady  Ja- 
net's family  is  an  old  family — on  her  side  only." 

Mercy  dropped  her  embroidery,  and  looked  Horace  "full  in 
the  face.  She,  too,  attached  no  common  importance  to  what 
she  had  next  to  say. 

"  If  I  had  not  been  connected  with  Lady  Janet,"  she  be- 
gan, "  would  you  ever  have  thought  of  marrying  me  ?" 

"  My  love  !  what  is  the  use  of  asking  ?  You  are  connect- 
ed with  Lady  Janet." 

She  refused  to  let  him  escape  answering  her  in  that  way. 

"  Suppose  I  had  not  been  connected  with  Lady  Janet,"  she 
persisted.  "  Suppose  I  had  only  been  a  good  girl,  with  noth- 
ing but  my  own  merits  to  speak  for  me.  What  would  your 
mother  have  said  then  ?" 

Horace  still  parried  the  question — only  to  find  the  point  of 
it  pressed  home  on  him  once  more. 

"Why  do  you  ask?"  he  said. 

"I  ask  to  be  answered,"  she  rejoined.  "Would  your 
mother  have  liked  you  to  marry  a  poor  girl,  of  no  family — 
with  nothing  but  her  own  virtues  to  speak  for  her  ?" 

Horace  was  fairly  pressed  back  to  the  wall. 

"  If  you  must  know,"  he  replied, "  my  mother  would  have 
refused  to  sanction  such  a  marriage  as  that." 

"  No  matter  how  good  the  girl  might  have  been  ?" 

There  was  something  defiant — almost  threatening — in  her 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN'.  145 

tone.  Horace  was  annoyed  —  and  he  showed  it  when  he 
spoke. 

"  My  mother  would  have  respected  the  girl,  without  ceasing 
to  respect  herself,"  he  said.  "My  mother  would  have  re- 
membered what  was  due  to  the  family  name." 

"And  she  would  have  said, No?" 

"  She  would  have  said,  No." 

"Ah!" 

There  was  an  undertone  of  angry  contempt  in  the  excla- 
mation which  made  Horace  start.  "What  is  the  matter?" 
he  asked. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered,  and  took  up  her  embroidery 
again.  There  he  sat  at  her  side,  anxiously  looking  at  her — 
his  hope  in  the  future  centred  in  his  marriage!  In  a  week 
more,  if  she  chose,  she  might  enter  that  ancient  family,  of 
which  he  had  spoken  so  proudly,  as  his  wife.  "  Oh  !"  she 
thought,  "  if  I  didn't  love  him !  if  I  had  only  his  merciless 
mother  to  think  of !" 

Uneasily  conscious  of  some  estrangement  between  them, 
Horace  spoke  again.  "Surely  I  have  not  offended  you?"  he 
said. 

She  turned  toward  him  once  more.  The  work  dropped 
unheeded  on  her  lap.  Her  grand  eyes  softened  into  tender- 
ness. A  smile  trembled  sadly  on  her  delicate  lips.  She  laid 
one  hand  caressingly  on  his  shoulder.  All  the  beauty  of  her 
voice  lent  its  charm  to  the  next  words  that  she  said  to  him. 
The  woman's  heart  hungered  in  its  misery  for  the  comfort 
that  could  only  come  from  his  lips. 

"  Yon  would  have  loved  me,  Horace — without  stopping  to 
think  of  the  family  name?" 

The  family  name  again  !  How  strangely  she  persisted  in 
coming  back  to  that !  Horace  looked  at  her  without  answer- 
ing, trying  vainly  to  fathom  what  was  passing  in  her  mind. 

She  took  his  hand,  and  wrung  it  hard — as  if  she  would 
wring  the  answer  out  of  him  in  that  way. 


146  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  You  would  have  loved  me  ?"  she  repeated. 

The  double  spell  of  her  voice  and  her  touch  was  on  hire. 
He  answered,  warmly,  "Under  any  circumstances  !  under  any 
name !" 

*  She  put  one  arm  round  his  neck,  and  fixed  her  eyes  on  his. 
"  Is  that  true  ?"  she  asked. 

"  True  as  the  heaven  above  us !" 

She  drank  in  those  few  commonplace  words  with  a  greedy 
delight.  She  forced  him  to  repeat  them  in  a  new  form. 

"  No  matter  who  I  might  have  been  ?     For  myself  alone  ?" 

"  For  yourself  alone." 

She  threw  both  arms  round  him,  and  laid  her  head  pas- 
sionately on  his  breast.  "  I  love  you  !  I  love  you ! !  I  love 
you ! !  !"  Her  voice  rose  with  hysterical  vehemence  at  each 
repetition  of  the  words — then  suddenly  sank  to  a  low  hoarse 
cry  of  rage  and  despair.  The  sense  of  her  true  position  to- 
ward him  revealed  itself  in  all  its  horror  as  the  confession  of 
her  love  escaped  her  lips.  Her  arms  dropped  from  him ;  she 
flung  herself  back  on  the  sofa-cushions,  hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands.  "  Oh,  leave  me !"  she  moaned,  faintly.  "  Go  !  go  !" 

Horace  tried  to  wind  his  arm  round  her,  and  raise  her. 
She  started  to  her  feet,  and  waved  him  back  from  her  with  a 
wild  action  of  her  hands,  as  if  she  was  frightened  of  him. 
"The  wedding  present!"  she  cried,  seizing  the  first  pretext 
that  occurred  to  her.  "  You  offered  to  bring  me  your  moth- 
er's present.  I  am  dying  to  see  what  it  is.  Go  and  get  it !" 

Horace  tried  to  compose  her.  He  might  as  well  have  tried 
to  compose  the  winds  and  the  sea. 

"  Go !"  she  repeated,  pressing  one  clinched  hand  on  her 
bosom.  "  I  am  not  well.  Talking  excites  me — I  am  hyster- 
ical ;  I  shall  be  better  alone.  Get  me  the  present.  Go  !" 

"  Shall  I  send  Lady  Janet?     Shall  I  ring  for  your  maid  ?" 

"  Send  for  nobody  !  ring  for  nobody  !  If  you  love  me — 
leave  me  here  by  myself  !  leave  me  instantly  !" 

"  I  shall  see  you  when  I  come  back  ?" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  147 

"Yes!  yes!M 

There  was  no  alternative  but  to  obey  her.  Unwillingly 
ami  forebodingly,  Horace  left  the  room. 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief,  and  dropped  into  the 
nearest  chair.  If  Horace  had  staid  a  moment  longer — she 
felt  it,  she  knew  it — her  head  would  have  given  way ;  she 
would  have  burst  out  before  him  with  the  terrible  truth. 
"  Oh  !"  she  thought,  pressing  her  cold  hands  on  her  burning 
eyes,  "  if  I  could  only  cry,  now  there  is  nobody  to  see  me !" 

The  room  was  empty  :  she  had  every  reason  for  concluding 
that  she  was  alone.  And  yet  at  that  very  moment  there 
were  ears  that  listened — there  were  eyes  waiting  to  see  her. 

Little  by  little  the  door  behind  her  which  faced  the  library 
and  led  into  the  billiard-room  was  opened  noiselessly  from 
without,  by  an  inch  at  a  time.  As  the  opening  was  enlarged 
a  hand  in  a  black  glove,  an  arm  in  a  black  sleeve,  appeared, 
guiding  the  movement  of  the  door.  An  interval  of  a  mo- 
ment passed,  and  the  worn  white  face  of  Grace  Roseberry 
showed  itself  stealthily,  looking  into  the  dining-room. 

Her  eyes  brightened  with  vindictive  pleasure  as  they  dis- 
covered Mercy  sitting  alone  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room. 
Inch  by  inch  she  opened  the  door  more  widely,  took  one  step 
forward,  and  checked  herself.  A  sound,  just  audible  at  the 
far  end  of  the  conservatory,  had  caught  her  ear. 

She  listened — satisfied  herself  that  she  was  not  mistaken — 
and  drawing  back  with  a  frown  of  displeasure,  softly  closed 
the  door  again,  so  as  to  hide  herself  from  view.  The  sound 
that  had  disturbed  her  was  the  distant  murmur  of  men's 
voices  (apparently  two  in  number)  talking  together  in  low- 
ered tones,  at  the  garden  entrance  to  the  conservatory. 

Who  were  the  men  ?  and  what  would  they  do  next  ?  They 
might  do  one  of  two  things :  they  might  enter  the  drawing- 
room,  or  they  might  withdraw  again  by  way  of  the  garden. 
Kneeling  behind  the  door,  with  her  ear  at  the  key-hole,  Grace 
Roseberry  waited  the  event.  . 


148  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THEY    MEET    AGAIN. 

ABSORBED  in  herself,  Mercy  failed  to  notice  the  opening 
door  or  to  hear  the  murmur  of  voices  in  the  conservatory. 

The  one  terrible  necessity  which  had  been  present  to  her 
mind  at  intervals  for  a  week  past  was  confronting  her  at  that 
moment.  She  owed  to  Grace  Roseberry  the  tardy  justice 
of  owning  the  truth.  The  longer  her  confession  was  delayed, 
the  more  cruelly  she  was  injuring  the  woman  whom  she  had 
robbed  of  her  identity — the  friendless  woman  who  had  nei- 
ther witnesses  nor  papers  to  produce,  who  was  powerless  to 
right  her  own  wrong.  Keenly  as  she  felt  this,  Mercy  failed, 
nevertheless,  to  conquer  the  horror  that  shook  her  when  she 
thought  of  the  impending  avowal.  Day  followed  day,  and 
still  she  shrank  from  the  unendurable  ordeal  of  confession — as 
she  was  shrinking  from  it  now ! 

Was  it  fear  for  herself  that  closed  her  lips  ? 

She  trembled — as  any  human  being  in  her  place  must  have 
trembled — at  the  bare  idea  of  finding  herself  thrown  back 
again  on  the  world,  which  had  no'  place  in  it  .and  no  hope  in 
it  for  Tier.  But  she  could  have  overcome  that  terror — she 
could  have  resigned  herself  to  that  doom. 

No  !  it  was  not  the  fear  of  the  confession  itself,  or  the  fear 
of  the  consequences  which  must  follow  it,  that  still  held  her 
silent.  The  horror  that  daunted  her  was  the  horror  of  own- 
ing to  Horace  and  to  Lady  Janet  that  she  had  cheated  them 
out  of  their  love. 

Every  day  Lady  Janet  was  kinder  and  kinder.  Every  day 
Horace  was  fonder  and  fonder  of  her.  How  could  she  con- 
fess to  Lady  Janet?  how  could  she  own  to  Horace  that  she 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  J49 

had  imposed  upon  him ?  "I  can't  do  it.  They  are  so  good 
to  me — I  can't  do  it !"  In  that  hopeless  way  it  had  ended 
during  the  seven  days  that  had  gone  by.  In  that  hopeless 
way  it  ended  again  now. 

The  murmur  of  the  two  voices  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
conservatory  ceased.  The  billiard-room  door  opened  again 
slowly,  by  an  inch  at  a  time. 

Mercy  still  kept  her  place,  unconscious  of  the  events  that 
were  passing  round  her.  Sinking  under  the  hard  stress  laid 
on  it,  her  mind  had  drifted  little  by  little  into  a  new  train  of 
thought.  For  the  first  time  she  found  the  courage  to  question 
the  future  in  a  new  way.  Supposing  her  confession  to  have 
been  made,  or  supposing  the  woman  whom  she  had  personated 
to  have  discovered  the  means  of  exposing  the  fraud,  what  ad- 
vantage, she  now  asked  herself,  would  Miss  Roseberry  derive 
from  Mercy  Merrick's  disgrace? 

Could  Lady  Janet  transfer  to  the  woman  who  was  really 
her  relative  by  marriage  the  affection  which  she  had  given  to 
the  woman  who  had  pretended  to  be  her  relative?  No!  All 
the  right  in  the  world  would  not  put  the  true  Grace  into  the 
false  Grace's  vacant  place.  The  qualities  by  which  Mercy  had 
won  Lady  Janet's  love  were  the  qualities  which  were  Mciv\'- 
own.  Lady  Janet  could  do  rigid  justice — but  hers  was  not 
the  heart  to  give  itself  to  a  stranger  (and  to  give  itself  unre- 
servedly) a  second  time.  Grace  Roseberry  would  be  formally 
acknowledged — and  there  it  would  end. 

Was  there  hope  in  this  new  view? 

Yes !  There  was  the  false  hope  of  making  the  inevitable 
atonement  by  some  other  means  than  by  the  confession  of 
the  fraud. 

What  had  Grace  Roseberry  actually  lost  by  the  wrong 
done  to  her  ?  She  had  lost  the  salary  of  Lady  Janet's  "  com- 
panion and  reader."  Say  that  she  wanted  money,  Mercy  had 
her  savings  from  the  generous  allowance  made  to  her  by  Lady 

7* 


150  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Janet;  Mercy  could  offer  money.  Or  say  that  she  wanted 
employment,  Mercy's  interest  with  Lady  Janet  could  offer 
employment,  could  offer  any  thing  Grace  might  ask  for,  if  she 
would  only  come  to  terras. 

Invigorated  by  the  new  hope,  Mercy  rose  excitedly,  weary 
ol  inaction  in  the  empty  room.  She,  who  but  a  few  minutes 
since  had  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  their  meeting  again, 
was  now  eager  to  devise  a  means  of  finding  her  way  privately 
to  an  interview  with  Grace.  It  should  be  done  without  loss 
of  time — on  that  very  day,  if  possible ;  by  the  next  day  at 
latest.  She  looked  round  her  mechanically,  pondering  how 
to  reach  the  end  in  view.  Her  eyes  rested  by  chance  on  the 
door  of  the  billiard-room. 

Was  it  fancy?  or  did  she  really  see  the  door  first  open  a 
little,  then  suddenly  and  softly  close  again  ? 

Was  it  fancy  ?  or  did  she  really  hear,  at  the  same  moment, 
a  sound  behind  her  as  of  persons  speaking  in  the  conservatory  ? 

She  paused  ;  and,  looking  back  in  that  direction,  listened  in- 
tently. The  sound — if  she  had  really  heard  it— was  no  longer 
audible.  She  advanced  toward  the  billiard-room,  to  set  her 
first  doubt  at  rest.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  to  open  the 
door,  when  the  voices  (recognizable  now  as  the  voices  of  two 
men)  caught  her  ear  once  more. 

This  time  she  was  able  to  distinguish  the  words  that  were 
spoken. 

"Any  further  orders,  sir?"  inquired  one  of  the  men. 

"  Nothing  more,"  replied  the  other. 

Mercy  started,  and  faintly  flushed,  as  the  second  voice  an- 
swered the  first.  She  stood  irresolute  close  to  the  billiard- 
room,  hesitating  what  to  do  next. 

After  an  interval  the  second  voice  made  itself  heard  again, 
advancing  nearer  to  the  dining-room ;  "Are  you  there, aunt?" 
it  asked,  cautiously.  There  was  a  moment's  pause.  Then 
the  voice  spoke  for  the  third  time,  sounding  louder  and  near- 
er. "Are  you  there?"  it  reiterated;  "I  have  something  to 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEX.  131 

tell  you."  Mercy  summoned  her  resolution,  and  answered, 
"  Lady  Janet  is  not  here. '  She  turned  as  she  spoke  toward 
the  conservatory  door,  and  confronted  on  the  threshold  Ju- 
lian Gray. 

They  looked  at  one  another  without  exchanging  a  word  on 
either  side.  The  situation — for  widely  different  reasons — was 
equally  embarrassing  to  both  of  them. 

There — as  Julian  saw  her — was  the  woman  forbidden  to 
him,  the  woman  whom  he  loved. 

There — as  Mercy  saw  him — was  the  man  whom  she  dread- 
ed, the  man  whose  actions  (as  she  interpreted  them)  proved 
that  he  suspected  her. 

On  the  surface  of  it,  the  incidents  which  had  marked  their 
first  meeting  were  now  exactly  repeated,  with  the  one  differ- 
ence that  the  impulse  to  withdraw  this  time  appeared  to  be 
on  the  man's  side  and  not  on  the  woman's.  It  was  Mercy 
who  spoke  first. 

"Did  you  expect  to  find  Lady  Janet  here ?"  she  asked, con- 
strainedly. 

He  answered,  on  his  part,  more  constrainedly  still. 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  he  said.     "  Another  thne  will  do." 

He  drew  back  as  he  made  the  reply.  She  advanced  des- 
perately, with  the  deliberate  intention  of  detaining  him  by 
speaking  again. 

The  attempt  which  he  had  made  to  withdraw,  the  constraint 
in  his  manner  when  he  had  answered,  had  instantly  confirmed 
her  in  the  false  conviction  that  he,  and  he  alone,  had  guessed 
the  truth  !  If  she  was  right— if  he  had  secretly  made  discov- 
eries abroad  which  placed  her  entirely  at  his  mercy— the  at- 
tempt to  induce  Grace  to  consent  to  a  compromise  with  her 
would  be  manifestly  useless.  Her  first  and  foremost  interest 
now  was  to  find  out  how  she  really  stood  in  the  estimation  <>f 
Julian  Gray.  In  a  terror  of  suspense,  that  tunu-d  her  cold 
from  head  to  foot,  she  stopped  him  on  his  way  out,  and  spoke 
to  him  with  the  piteous  counterfeit  of  a  smile. 


152  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"Lady  Janet  is  receiving  some  visitors,"  she  said.  "  If  you 
will  wait  here,  she  will  be  back  directly." 

The  effort  of  hiding  her  agitation  from  him  had  brought  a 
passing  color  into  her  cheeks.  Worn  and  wasted  as  she  was, 
the  spell  of  her  beauty  was  strong  enough  to  hold  him  against 
his  own  will.  All  he  had  to  tell  Lady  Janet  was  that  he  had 
met  one  of  the  gardeners  in  the  conservatory,  and  had  cau- 
tioned him  as  well  as  the  lodge-keeper.  It  would  have  been 
easy  to  write  this,  and  to  send  the  note  to  his  aunt  on  quit- 
ting the  house.  For  the  sake  of  his  own  peace  of  mind,  for 
the  sake  of  his  duty  to  Horace,  he  was  doubly  bound  to  make 
the  first  polite  excuse  that  occurred  to  him,  and  to  leave  her 
as  he  had  found  her,  alone  in  the  room.  He  made  the  at- 
tempt, and  hesitated.  Despising  himself  for  doing  it,  he  al- 
lowed himself  to  look  at  her.  Their  eyes  met.  Julian  step- 
ped into  the  dining-room. 

"  If  I  am  not  in  the  way,"  he  said,  confusedly, "  I  will  wait, 
as  you  kindly  propose." 

She  noticed  his  embarrassment ;  she  saw  that  he  was  strong- 
ly restraining  himself  from  looking  at  her  again.  Her  own 
eyes  dropped  to  the  ground  as  she  made  the  discovery.  Her 
speech  failed  her ;  her  heart  throbbed  faster  and  faster. 

"  If  I  look  at  him  again  "  (was  the  thought  in  her  mind)  "  I 
shall  fall  at  his  feet  and  tell  him  all  that  I  have  done !" 

"If  I  look  at  her  again  "  (was  the  thought  in  his  mind)  "I 
shall  fall  at  her  feet  and  own  that  I  am  in  love  with  her !" 

With  downcast  eyes  he  placed  a  chair  for  her.  With 
downcast  eyes  she  bowed  to  him  and  took  it.  A  dead  silence 
followed.  Never  was  any  human  misunderstanding  more  in- 
tricately complete  than  the  misunderstanding  which  had  now 
established  itself  between  those  two. 

Mercy's  work-basket  was  near  her.  She  took  it,  and  gain- 
ed time  for  composing  herself  by  pretending  to  arrange  the 
colored  wools.  He  stood  behind  her  chair,  looking  at  the 
graceful  turn  of  her  head,  looking  at  the  rich  masses  of  her 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  153 

hair.     He  reviled  himself  as  the  weakest  of  men,  as  the  falsest 
of  friends,  for  still  remaining  near  her — and  yet  he  remained. 

The  silence  continued.  The  billiard  -  room  door  opened 
again  noiselessly.  The  face  of  the  listening  woman  appeared 
stealthily  behind  it. 

At  the  same  moment  Mercy  roused  herself  and  spoke: 
"  Won't  you  sit  down  ?"  she  said,  softly,  still  not  looking 
round  at  him,  still  busy  with  her  basket  of  wools. 

He  turned  to  get  a  chair — turned  so  quickly  that  he  saw 
the  billiard- room  door  move,  as  Grace  Roseberry  closed  it 
again. 

"  Is  there  any  one  in  that  room  ?"  he  asked,  addressing 
Mercy. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered.  "  I  thought  I  saw  the  door 
open  and  shut  again  a  little  while  ago." 

He  advanced  at  once  to  look  into  the  room.  As  he  did  so 
Mercy  dropped  one  of  her  balls  of  wool.  He  stopped  to  pick 
it  up  for  her — then  threw  open  the  door  and  looked  into  the 
billiard-room.  It  was  empty. 

Had  some  person  been  listening,  and  had  that  person  re 
treated  in  time  to  escape  discovery?  The  open  door  of  the 
smoking-room  showed  that  room  also  to  be  empty.  A  third 
door  was  open — the  door  of  the  side  hall,  leading  into  the 
grounds.  Julian  closed  and  locked  it,  and  returned  to  the 
dining-room. 

"  I  can  only  suppose,"  he  said  to  Mercy, "  that  the  billiard- 
room  door  was  not  properly  shut,  and  that  the  draught  of  air 
from  the  hall  must  have  moved  it." 

She  accepted  the  explanation  in  silence.  He  was,  to  all  ap- 
pearance, not  quite  satisfied  with  it  himself.  For  a  moment 
or  two  he  looked  about  him  uneasily.  Then  the  old  fascina- 
tion fastened  its  hold  on  him  again.  Once  more  he  looked 
at  the  graceful  turn  of  her  head,  at  the  rich  masses  of  her 
hair.  The  courage  to  put  the  critical  question  to  him,  now 
that  she  had  lured  him  into  remaining  in  the  room,  was  still 


154  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

a  courage  that  failed  her.  She  remained  as  busy  as  ever 
with  her  work — too  busy  to  look  at  him ;  too  busy  to  speak 
to  him.  The  silence  became  unendurable.  He  broke  it  by 
making  a  commonplace  inquiry  after  her  health. 

"I  am  well  enough  to  be  ashamed  of  the  anxiety  I  have 
caused  and  the  trouble  I  have  given,"  she  answered.  "  To- 
day I  have  got  down  stairs  for  the  first  time.  I  am  trying 
to  do  a  little  work."  She  looked  into  the  basket.  The  vari- 
ous specimens  of  wool  in  it  were  partly  in  balls  and  partly  in 
loose  skeins.  The  skeins  were  mixed  and  tangled.  "Here 
is  sad  confusion  !"  she  exclaimed,  timidly,  with  a  faint  smile. 
"  How  am  I  to  set  it  right  again  ?" 

"  Let  me  help  you,"  said  Julian. 

"You!" 

"  Why  not  ?"  he  asked,  with  a  momentary  return  of  the 
quaint  humor  which  she  remembered  so  well.  "  You  forget 
that  I  am  a  curate.  Curates  are  privileged  to  make  them- 
selves useful  to  young  ladies.  Let  me  try." 

He  took  a  stool  at  her  feet,  and  set  himself  to  unravel  one 
of  the  tangled  skeins.  In  a  minute  the  wool  was  stretched 
on  his  hands,  and  the  loose  end  was  ready  for  Mercy  to  wind. 
There  was  something  in  the  trivial  action,  and  in  the  homely 
attention  that  it  implied,  which  in  some  degree  quieted  her 
fear  of  him.  She  began  to  roll  the  wool  off  his  hands  into  a 
ball.  Thus  occupied,  she  said  the  daring  words  which  were 
to  lead  him  little  by  little  into  betraying  his  suspicions,  if  he 
did  indeed  suspect  the  truth. 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  155 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

THE    GUARDIAN   ANGBL. 

"You  were  here  when  I  fainted,  were  you  not?"  Mercy 
began.  "  You  must  think  me  a  sad  coward,  even  for  a 
woman.'" 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  am  far  from  thinking  that,"  he  re- 
plied. "  No  courage  could  have  sustained  the  shock  which 
fell  on  you.  I  don't  wonder  that  you  fainted.  I  don't  won- 
der that  you  have  been  ill." 

She  paused  in  rolling  up  the  ball  of  wool.  What  did  those 
words  of  unexpected  sympathy  mean  ?  Was  he  laying  a  trap 
for  her  ?  Urged  by  that  serious  doubt,  she  questioned  him 
more  boldly." 

"  Horace  tells  me  you  have  been  abroad,"  she  said.  "  Did 
you  enjoy  your  holiday  ?" 

"It  was  no  holiday.  I  went  abroad  because  I  thought  it 
right  to  make  certain  inquiries —  He  stopped  there,  unwill- 
ing to  return  to  a  subject  that  was  painful  to  her. 

Her  voice  sank,  her  fingers  trembled  round  the  ball  of 
wool ;  but  she  managed  to  go  on. 

"  Did  you  arrive  at  any  results  ?"  she  asked. 

"At  no  results  worth  mentioning." 

The  caution  of  that  reply  renewed  her  worst  suspicions  of 
him.  In  sheer  despair,  she  spoke  out  plainly. 

"  I  want  to  know  your  opinion — "  she  began. 

"  Gently !"  said  Julian.  "  You  are  entangling  the  wool 
again." 

"  I  want  to  know  your  opinion  of  the  person  who  so  terri- 
bly frightened  me.  Do  you  think  her — 

"  Do  I  think  her— what  ?" 


156  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Do  you  think  her  an  adventuress  ?" 

(As  she  said  those  words  the  branches  of  a  shrub  in  the 
conservatory  were  noiselessly  parted  by  a  hand  in  a  black 
glove.  The  face  of  Grace  Roseberry  appeared  dimly  behind 
the  leaves.  Undiscovered,  she  had  escaped  from  the  billiard- 
room,  and  had  stolen  her  way  into  the  conservatory  as  the 
safer  hiding-place  of  the  two.  Behind  the  shrub  she  could 
see  as  well  as  listen.  Behind  the  shrub  she  waited  as  patient- 
ly as  ever.) 

"  I  take  a  more  merciful  view,"  Julian  answered.  "  I  be- 
lieve she  is  acting  under  a  delusion.  I  don't  blame  her :  I 
pity  her."  - 

"  You  pity  her  ?"  As  Mercy  repeated  the  words,  she  tore 
off  Julian's  hands  the  last  few  lengths  of  wool  left,  and  threw 
the  imperfectly  wound  skein  back  into  the  basket.  "  Does 
that  mean,"  she  resumed,  abruptly, "  that  you  believe  her  ?" 

Julian  rose  from  his  seat,  and  looked  at  Mercy  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Good  heavens,  Miss  Roseberry  !  what  put  such  an  idea 
as  that  into  your  head  ?" 

"  I  am  little  better  than  a  stranger  to  you,"  she  rejoined, 
with  an  effort  to  assume  a  jesting  tone.  "  You  met  that  per- 
son before  you  met  with  me.  It  is  not  so  very  far  from  pity- 
ing her  to  believing  her.  How  could  I  feel  sure  that  you 
might  not  suspect  me  ?" 

"  Suspect  you  /"  he  exclaimed.  "  You  don't  know  how  you 
distress,  how  you  shock  me.  Suspect  yon  !  The  bare  idea 
of  it  never  entered  my  mind.  The  man  doesn't  live  who 
trusts  you  more  implicitly,  who  believes  in  you  more  devo- 
tedly, than  I  do." 

His  eyes,  his  voice,  his  manner,  all  told  her  that  those  words 
came  from  the  heart.  She  contrasted  his  generous  confidence 
in^her  (the  confidence  of  whicli  she  was  unworthy)  with  her 
ungracious  distrust  of  him.  Not  only  had  she  wronged  Grace 
Roseberry — she  had  wronged  Julian  Gray.  Could  she  de- 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  157 

ceive  him  as  she  hud  deceived  the  others?  Could  she  mean- 
ly accept  that  implicit  trust,  that  devoted  belief?  Never 
had  she  felt  the  base  submissions  which  her  o\vn  imposture 
condemned  her  to  undergo  with  a  loathing  of  them  so  over- 
whelming as  the  loathing  that  she  felt  now.  In  horror  of 
herself,  she  turned  her  head  aside  in  silence,  and  shrank  from 
meeting  his  eye.  He  noticed  the  movement,  placing  his  own 
interpretation  on  it.  Advancing  closer,  he  asked  anxiously  if 
he  had  offended  her. 

"  You  don't  know  how  your  confidence  touches  me,"  she 
said,  without  looking  up.  "You  little  think  how  keenly  I 
feel  your  kindness." 

She  checked  herself  abruptly.  Her  fine  tact  warned  her 
that  she  was  speaking  too  warmly — that  the  expression  of  her 
gratitude  might  strike  him  as  being  strangely  exaggerated. 
She  handed  him  her  work-basket  before  he  could  speak  again. 

"Will  you  put  it  away  for  me?"  she  asked,  in  her  quieter 
tones.  "I  don't  feel  able  to  work  just  now." 

His  back  was  turned  on  her  for  a  moment,  while  he  placed 
the  basket  on  a  side-table.  In  that  moment  her  mind  ad- 
vanced at  a  bound  from  present  to  future.  Accident  might 
one  day  put  the  true  Grace  in  possession  of  the  proofs  that 
she  needed,  and  might  reveal  the  false  Grace  to  him  in  the 
identity  that  was  her  own.  What  would  he  think  of  her 
then  ?  Could  she  make  him  tell  her  without  betraying  her- 
self ?  She  determined  to  try. 

"  Children  are  notoriously  insatiable  if  yon  once  answer 
their  questions,  and  women  are  nearly  as  bad,"  she  said,  when 
Julian  returned  to  her.  "  Will  your  patience  hold  out  if  I 
go  back  for  the  third  time  to  the  person  whom  we  have  been 
speaking  of  ?" 

"Try  me,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 

"  Suppose  you  had  not  taken  your  merciful  view  of  her?" 

"Yes?" 

s  Suppose    you  believed   that   she    was  wickedly  bent  on 


158  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

deceiving  others  for  a  purpose  of  her  own — would  you  not 
shrink  from  such  a  woman  in  horror  and  disgust  ?" 

"  God  forbid  that  I  should  shrink  from  any  human  crea- 
ture !"  he  answered, earnestly.  "Who  among  us  has  a  right 
to  do  that?" 

She  hardly  dared  trust  herself  to  believe  him.  "  You 
would  still  pity  her?"  she  persisted,  "  and  still  feel  for  her?" 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

"  Oh,  how  good  you  are !" 

He  held  up  his  hand  in  warning.  The  tones  of  his  voice 
deepened,  the  lustre  of  his  eyes  brightened.  She  had  stirred 
in  the  depths  of  that  great  heart  the  faith  in  which  the  man 
lived  —  the  steady  principle  which  guided  his  modest  and 
noble  life. 

"  No  !"  he  cried.  "  Don't  say  that !  Say  that  I  try  to  love 
my  neighbor  as  myself.  Who  but  a  Pharisee  can  believe 
that  he  is  better  than  another  ?  The  best  among  us  to-day 
may,  but  for  the  mercy  of  God,  be  the  worst  among  us  to- 
morrow. The  true  Christian  virtue  is  the  virtue  which  never 
despairs  of  a  fellow-creature.  The  true  Christian  faith  be- 
lieves in  Man  as  well  as  in  God.  Frail  and  fallen  as  we  are, 
we  can  rise  on  the  wings  of  repentance  from  earth  to  heaven. 
Humanity  is  sacred.  Humanity  has  its  immortal  destiny. 
Who  shall  dare  say  to  man  or  woman, 'There  is  no  hope  in 
you  ?'  Who  shall  dare  say  the  work  is  all  vile,  when  that 
work  bears  on  it  the  stamp  of  the  Creator's  hand  ?" 

He  turned  away  for  a  moment,  struggling  with  the  emo- 
tion which  she  had  roused  in  him. 

Her  eyes,  as  they  followed  him,  lighted  with  a  momentary 
enthusiasm — then  sank  wearily  in  the  vain  regret  which  comes 
too  late.  Ah !  if  he  could  have  been  her  friend  and  her  ad- 
viser on  the  fatal  day  when  she  first  turned  her  steps  toward 
Mablethorpe  House !  She  sighed  bitterly  as  the  hopeless 
aspiration  wrung  her  heart.  He  heard  the  sigh  ;  and,  turn- 
ing again,  looked  at  her  with  a  new  interest  in  his  face. 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  159 

"  Miss  Roseberry,"  he  said. 

She  was  still  absorbed  in  the  bitter  memories  of  the  past: 
she  failed  to  hear  him. 

"  Miss  Roseberry,"  he  repeated,  approaching  her. 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  start. 

"  May  I  venture  to  ask  you  something  ?"  he  said,  gently. 

She  shrank  at  the  question. 

"  Don't  suppose  I  am  speaking  out  of  mere  curiosity,"  he 
went  on.  "And  pray  don't  answer  me  unless  you  can  answer 
without  betraying  any  confidence  which  may  have  been  placed 
in  you." 

"  Confidence  !"  she  repeated.  "  What  confidence  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"It  has  just  struck  me  that  you  might  have  felt  more  than 
a  common  interest  in  the  questions  which  you  put  to  me  a 
moment  since,"  he  answered.  "  Were  you  by  any  chance 
speaking  of  some  unhappy  woman  —  not  the  person  who 
frightened  you,  of  course — but  of  some  other  woman  whom 
you  know  ?" 

Her  head  sank  slowly  on  her  bosom.  He  had  plainly  no 
suspicion  that  she  had  been  speaking  of  herself :  his  tone  and 
manner  both  answered  for  it  that  his  belief  in  her  was  as 
strong  as  ever.  Still  those  last  words  made  her  tremble;  she 
could  not  trust  herself  to  reply  to  them. 

He  accepted  the  bending  of  her  head  as  a  reply. 

"Are  you  interested  in  her  ?"  he  asked  next. 

She  faintly  answered  this  time.     "  Yes." 

"  Have  you  encouraged  her  ?" 

"I  have  not  dared  to  encourage  her." 

His  face  lit  up  suddenly  with  enthusiasm.  "  Go  to  her," 
he  said, "  and  let  me  go  with  you  and  help  you  !" 

The  answer  came  faintly  and  mournfully.  "  She  has  sunk 
too  low  for  that !" 

He  interrupted  her  with  a  gesture  of  impatience. 

"  What  has  she  done  ?"  he  asked. 


160  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  She  has  deceived — basely  deceived — innocent  people  who 
trusted  her.  She  has  wronged — cruelly  wronged — another 
woman." 

For  the  first  time  Julian  seated  himself  at  her  side.  The 
interest  that  was  now  roused  in  him  was  an  interest  above 
reproach.  He  could  speak  to  Mercy  without  restraint;  he 
could  look  at  Mercy  with  a  pure  heart. 

"You  judge  her  very  harshly,"  he  said.  "Do  you  know 
how  she  may  have  been  tried  and  tempted  ?" 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Tell  me,"  he  went  on,  "  is  the  person  whom  she  has  in- 
jured still  living  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  If  the  person  is  still  living,  she  may  atone  for  the  wrong. 
The  time  may  come  when  this  sinner,  too,  may  win  our  par- 
don and  deserve  our  respect.  ' 

"  Could  you  respect  her  ?"  Mercy  asked,  sadly.  "  Can  such 
a  mind  as  yours  understand  what  she  has  gone  through  ?" 

A  smile,  kind  and  momentary,  brightened  his  attentive 
face. 

"You  forget  my  melancholy  experience,"  he  answered. 
"Young  as  I  am,  I  have  seen  more  than  most  men  of  women 
who  have  sinned  and  suffered.  Even  after  the  little  that  you 
have  told  me,  I  think  I  can  put  myself  in  her  place.  I  can 
well  understand,  for  instance,  that  she  may  have  been  tempted 
beyond  human  resistance.  Am  I  right?" 

"  You  are  right." 

"  She  may  have  had  nobody  near  at  the  time  to  advise  her, 
to  warn  her,  to  save  her.  Is  that  true  ?" 

"  It  is  true." 

"  Tempted  and  friendless,  self  abandoned  to  the  evil  im- 
pulse of  the  moment,  this  woman  may  have  committed  herself 
headlong  to  the  act  which  she  now  vainly  repents.  She  may 
long  to  make  atonement,  and  may  not  know  how  to  begin. 
All  her  energies  may  be  crushed  under  the  despair  and  horror 


THE    NEW    MAtiDAUEX.  161 

» 

of  herself,  out  of  which  the  truest  repentance  grows.  Is  such 
a  woman  as  this  all  wicked,  all  vile?  I  deny  it!  She  may 
have  a  noble  nature;  and  she  may  show  it  nobly  yet.  Give 
her  the  opportunity  she  needs,  and  our  poor  fallen  fellow- 
creature  may  take  her  place  again  among  the  best  of  us 

honored,  blameless,  happy,  once  more  !" 

Mercy's  eyes,  resting  eagerly  on  him  while  he  was  speak- 
ing, dropped  again  despondingly  when  he  had  done. 

"  There  is  no  such  future  as  that,"  she  answered, "  for  the 
woman  whom  I  am  thinking  of.  She  has  lost  her  opportu- 
nity. She  has  done  with  hope." 

Julian  gravely  considered  with  himself  for  a  moment. 

"  Let  us  understand  each  other,"  he  said.  "  She  has  com- 
mitted an  act  of  deception  to  the  injury  of  another  woman. 
Was  that  what  you  told  me?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  she  has  gained  something  to  her  own  advantage  by 
the  act?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Is  she  threatened  with  discovery  ?" 

"  She  is  safe  from  discovery — for  the  present,  at  least" 

"  Safe  as  long  as  she  closes  her  lips  ?" 

"As  long  as  she  closes  her  lips." 

"There  is  her  opportunity  !" cried  Julian.  "Her  future  is 
before  her.  She  has  not  done  with  hope !" 

With  clasped  hands,  in  breathless  suspense,  Mercy  looked 
at  that  inspiriting  face,  and  listened  to  those  golden  words. 

"  Explain  yourself,"  she  said.  "  Tell  her,  through  me, 
what  she  must  do." 

"  Let  her  own  the  truth,"  answered  Julian,  "  without  the 
base  fear  of  discovery  to  drive  her  to  it.  Let  her  do  justfce 
to  the  woman  whom  she  lias  wronged,  while  that  woman  is 
still  powerless  to  expose  her.  Let  her  sacrifice  every  thing 
that  she  has  gained  by  the  fraud  to  the  sacred  duty  of  atone- 
ment. If  she  can  do  that — for  conscience  sake,  and  for  pity's 


162  THE   NEW  MAGDALEN. 

sake — to  her  own  prejudice,  to  her  own  shame,  to  her  own 
loss — then  her  repentance  has  nobly  revealed  the  noble  nature 
that  is  in  her ;  then  she  is  a  woman  to  be  trusted,  respected, 
beloved  !  If  I  saw  the  Pharisees  and  fanatics  of  this  lower 
earth  passing  her  by  in  contempt,  I  would  hold  out  my  hand 
to  her  before  them  all.  I  would  say  to  her  in  her  solitude 
and  her  affliction,  '  Rise,  poor  wounded  heart !  Beautiful, 
purified  soul,  God's  angels  rejoice  over  you !  Take  your 
place  among  the  noblest  of  God's  creatures !' " 

In  those  last  sentences  he  unconsciously  repeated  the  lan- 
guage in  which  he  had  spoken,  years  since,  to  his  congrega- 
tion in  the  chapel  of  the  Refuge.  With  tenfold  power  and 
tenfold  persuasion  they  now  found  their  way  again  to  Mercy's 
heart.  Softly,  suddenly,  mysteriously,  a  change  passed  over 
her.  Her  troubled  face  grew  beautifully  still.  The  shifting 
light  of  terror  and  suspense  vanished  from  her  grand  gray 
eyes,  and  left  in  them  the  steady  inner  glow  of  a  high  and 
pure  resolve. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  between  them.  They 
both  had  need  of  silence.  Julian  was  the  first  to  speak 
again. 

"  Have  I  satisfied  you  that  her  opportunity  is  still  before 
her?"  he  asked.  "Do  you  feel,  as  I  feel,  that  she  has  not 
done  with  hope  ?" 

"You  have  satisfied  me  that  the  world  holds  no  truer 
friend  to  her  than  you,"  Mercy  answered,  gently  and  grate- 
fully. "She  shall  prove  herself  worthy  of  your  generous 
confidence  in  her.  She  shall  show  you  yet  that  you  have  not 
spoken  in  vain." 

Still  inevitably  failing  to  understand  her,  he  led  the  way  to 
the  door. 

"  Don't  waste  the  precious  time,"  he  said.  "  Don't  leave 
her  cruelly  to  herself.  If  you  can't  go  to  her,  let  me  go  as 
your  messenger,  in  your  place." 

She  stopped  him  by  a  gesture.     He  took  a  step  back  into 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  163 

the  room,  ami  paused,  observing  with  surprise  that  she  made 
no  attempt  to  move  from  the  chair  that  she  occupied. 

"  Stay  here,"  she  said  to  him,  in  suddenly  altered  tones. 

"Pardon  rne,"  he  rejoined,  "I  don't  understand  you." 

"  You  will  understand  me  directly.    Give  me  a  little  time." 

He  still  lingered  near  the  door,  with  his  eyes  fixed  inquir- 
ingly on  her.  A  man  of  a  lower  nature  than  his,  or  a  man 
believing  in  Mercy  less  devotedly  than  he  believed,  would 
now  have  felt  his  first  suspicion  of  her.  Julian  was  as  far  as 
ever  from  suspecting  her,  even  yet. 

"Do  you  wish  to  be  alone?"  he  asked,  considerately. 
"  Shall  I  leave  you  for  a  while  and  return  again  ?" 

She  looked  up  with  a  start  of  terror.  ."Leave  me?"  she 
repeated,  and  suddenly  checked  herself  on  the  point  of  say- 
ing more.  Nearly  half  the  length  of  the  room  divided  them 
from  each  other.  The  words  which  she  was  longing  to  say 
were  words  that  would  never  pass  her  lips  unless  she  could 
see  some  encouragement  in  his  face.  "  No  !"  she  cried  out  to 
him,  on  a  sudden,  in  her  sore  need, "  don't  leave  me !  Come 
back  to  me !" 

lie  obeyed  her  in  silence.  In  silence,  on  her  side,  she  point- 
ed to  the  chair  near  her.  He  took  it.  She  looked  at  him,  and 
checked  herself  again  ;  resolute  to  make  her  terrible  confession, 
yet  still  hesitating  how  to  begin.  Her  woman's  instinct  whis- 
pered to  her, "  Find  courage  in  his  touch  !"  She  said  to  him, 
simply  and  artlessly  said  to  him,  "  Give  me  encouragement. 
Give  me  strength.  Let  me  take  your  hand."  He  neither  an- 
swered nor  moved.  His  mind  seemed  to  have  become  sud- 
denly preoccupied ;  his  eyes  rested  on  her  vacantly.  He  was 
on  the  brink  of  discovering  her  secret ;  in  another  instant  he 
would  have  found  his  way  to  the  truth.  In  that  instant,  in- 
nocently as  his  sister  might  have  taken  it,  she  took  his  hand. 
The  soft  clasp  of  her  fingers,  clinging  round  his,  roused  his 
senses,  fired  his  passion  for  her,  swept  out  of  his  mind  the 
pure  aspirations  which  had  filled  .it  but  the  moment  before, 


164  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

paralyzed  his  perception  when  it  was  just  penetrating  the 
mystery  of  her  disturbed  manner  and  her  strange  words. 
All  the  man  in  him  trembled  under  the  rapture  of  her  touch. 
But  the  thought  of  Horace  was  still  present  to  him :  his  hand 
lay  passive  in  hers ;  his  eyes  looked  uneasily  away  from  her. 

She  innocently  strengthened  her  clasp  of  his  hand.  She 
innocently  said  to  him,  "  Don't  look  away  from  me.  Your 
eyes  give  me  courage." 

His  hand  returned  the  pressure  of  hers.  He  tasted  to  the 
full  the  delicious  joy  of  looking  at  her.  She  had  broken 
down  his  last  reserves  of  self-control.  The  thought  of  Hor- 
ace, the  sense  of  honor,  became  obscured  in  him.  In  a  mo- 
ment more  he  might  have  said  the  words  which  he  would 
have  deplored  for  the  rest  of  his  life,  if  she  had  not  stopped 
him  by  speaking  first.  "  I  have  more  to  say  to  you,"  she  re- 
sumed, abruptly,  feeling  the  animating  resolution  to  lay  her 
heart  bare  before  him  at  last ;  "  more,  far  more,  than  I  have 
said  yet.  Generous,  merciful  friend,  let  me  say  it  here  /" 

She  attempted  to  throw  herself  on  her  knees  at  his  feet. 
He  sprung  from  his  seat  and  checked  her,  holding  her  with 
both  his  hands,  raising  her  as  he  rose  himself.  In  the  words 
which  had  just  escaped  her,  in  the  startling  action  which  had 
accompanied  them,  the  truth  burst  on  him.  The  guilty  wom- 
an she  had  spoken  of  was  herself! 

While  she  was  almost  in  his  arms,  while  her  bosom  was 
just  touching  his,  before  a  word  more  had  passed  his  lips  or 
hers,  the  library  door  opened. 

Lady  Janet  Roy  entered  the  room. 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  16fi 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   SEARCH    IN   THE   GROUNDS. 

GRACE  ROSEBERRY,  still  listening  in  the  conservatory,  saw 
the  door  open,  and  recognized  the  mistress  of  the  house.  She 
softly  drew  back,  and  placed  herself  in  safer  hiding,  beyond 
the  range  of  view  from  the  dining-room. 

Lady  Janet  advanced  no  farther  than  the  threshold.  She 
stood  there  and  looked  at  her  nephew  and  her  adopted  daugh- 
ter in  stern  silence. 

Mercy  dropped  into  the  chair  at  her  side.  Julian  kept  his 
place  by  her.  His  mind  was  still  stunned  by  the  discovery 
that  had  burst  on  it;  his  eyes  still  rested  on  her  in  mute  ter- 
ror of  inquiry.  He  was  as  completely  absorbed  in  the  one 
act  of  looking  at  her  as  if  they  had  been  still  alone  together 
in  the  room. 

Lady  Janet  was  the  first  of  the  three  who  spoke.  She  ad- 
dressed herself  to  her  nephew. 

"  You  were  right,  Mr.  Julian  Gray,"  she  said,  with  her  bit- 
terest emphasis  of  tone  and  manner.  "You  ought  to  have 
found  nobody  in  this  room  on  your  return  but  me.  I  detain 
you  no  longer.  You  are  free  to  leave  my  house." 

Julian  looked  round  at  his  aunt.  She  was  pointing  to  the 
door.  In  the  excited  state  of  his  sensibilities  at  that  moment, 
the  action  stung  him  to  the  quick.  He  answered  without  his 
customary  consideration  for  his  aunt's  age  and  his  aunt's  po- 
sition toward  him. 

"  You  apparently  forget,  Lady  Janet,  that  you  are  not  speak- 
ing to  one  of  your  footmen,"  he  said.  "  There  are  serious  rea- 
sons (of  which  you  know  nothing)  for  my  remaining  in  your 


166  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

house  a  little  longer.  You  may  rely  upon  my  trespassing  on 
your  hospitality  as  short  a  time  as  possible." 

He  turned  again  to  Mercy  as  he  said  those  words,  and  sur- 
prised her  timidly  looking  up  at  him.  In  the  instant  when 
their  eyes  met,  the  tumult  of  emotions  struggling  in  him  be- 
came suddenly  stilled.  Sorrow  for  her  —  compassionating 
sorrow  —  rose  in  the  new  calm  and  filled  his  heart.  Now, 
and  now  only,  he  could  read  in  the  wasted  and  noble  face 
how  she  had  suffered.  The  pity  which  he  had  felt  for  the 
unnamed  woman  grew  to  a  tenfold  pity  for  her.  The  faith 
which  he  professed — honestly  professed — in  the  better  nature 
of  the  unnamed  woman  strengthened  into  a  tenfold  faith  in 
her.  He  addressed  himself  again  to  his  aunt,  in  a  gentler 
tone.  "  This  lady,"  he  resumed,  "  has  something  to  say  to 
me  in  private  which  she  has  not  said  yet.  That  is  my  reason 
and  my  apology  for  not  immediately  leaving  the  house." 

Still  under  the  impression  of  what  she  had  seen  on  entering 
the  room,  Lady  Janet  looked  at  him  in  angry  amazement. 
Was  Julian  actually  ignoring  Horace  Holmcroft's  claims,  in 
the  presence  of  Horace  Holmcroft's  betrothed  wife?  She 
appealed  to  her  adopted  daughter.  "  Grace  !"  she  exclaimed, 
"  have  you  heard  him  ?  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  Must  I 
remind  you — 

She  stopped.  For  the  first  time  in  Lady  Janet's  experience 
of  her  young  companion,  she  found  herself  speaking  to  ears 
that  were  deaf  to  her.  Mercy  was  incapable  of  listening. 
Julian's  eyes  had  told  her  that  Julian  understood  her  at  last ! 

Lady  Janet  turned  to  her  nephew  once  more,  and  addressed 
him  in  the  hardest  words  that  she  had  ever  spoken  to  her  sis- 
ter's son. 

"  If  you  have  any  sense  of  decency,"  she  said — "  I  say  noth- 
ing of  a  sense  of  honor — you  will  leave  this  house,  and  your 
acquaintance  with  that  lady  will  end  here.  Spare  me  your 
protests  and  excuses ;  I  can  place  but  one  interpretation  on 
what  I  saw  when  I  opened  that  door." 


TUB:  NEW  MA<;DALEN.  187 

"You  entirely  misunderstand  what  you  saw  when  you 
onened  that  door,"  Julian  answered,  quietly. 

"  Perhaps  I  misunderstand  the  confession  which  you  made 
to  me  not  an  hour  ago  ?"  retorted  Lady  Janet. 

Julian  cast  a  look  of  alarm  at  Mercy.  "  Don't  speak  of  it !" 
he  said,  in  a  whisper.  "  She  might  hear  you." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  she  doesn't  know  you  are  in  love 
with  her  ?" 

"  Thank  God,  she  has  not  the  faintest  suspicion  of  it !" 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  earnestness  with  whicli  he 
made  that  reply.  It  proved  his  innocence  as  nothing  else 
could  have  proved  it.  Lady  Janet  drew  back  a  step — utterly 
bewildered ;  completely  at  a  loss  what  to  say  or  what  to  do 
next. 

The  silence  that  followed  was  broken  by  a  knock  at  the 
library  door.  The  man-servant — with  news,  and  bad  news, 
legibly  written  in  his  disturbed  face  and  manner — entered 
the  room.  In  the  nervous  irritability  of  the  moment,  Lady 
Janet  resented  the  servant's  appearance  as  a  positive  offense 
on  the  part  of  the  harmless  man.  "  Who  sent  for  you  ?"  sh< 
asked,  sharply.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  interrupting  us  ?" 

The  servant  made  his  excuses  in  an  oddly  bewildrivo 
manner. 

"I  beg  your  ladyship's  pardon.  I  wished  to  take  the  lib 
erty — I  wanted  to  speak  to  Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Julian. 

The  man  looked  uneasily  at  Lady  Janet,  hesitated,  and 
glanced  at  the  door,  as  if  he  wished  himself  well  out  of  the 
room  again. 

"I  hardly  know  if  I  can  tell  you,  sir, before  her  ladyship," 
he  answered. 

Lady  Janet  instantly  penetrated  the  secret  of  her  servant's 
hesitation. 

"  I  know  what  has  happened,"  she  said  :  "  that  abominable 
woman  has  found  her  way  here  again.  Am  I  right  ?" 


168  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

The  man's  eyes  helplessly  consulted  Julian. 

"  Yes,  or  no  ?"  cried  Lady  Janet,  imperatively. 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

Julian  at  once  assumed  the  duty  of  asking  the  necessary 
questions. 

"  Where  is  she  ?"  he  began. 

"  Somewhere  in  the  grounds,  as  we  suppose,  sir." 

"  Did  you  see  her  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"Who  saw  her?" 

"  The  lodge-keeper's  wife." 

This  looked  serious.  The  lodge-keeper's  wife  had  been 
present  while  Julian  had  given  his  instructions  to  her  hus- 
band. She  was  not  likely  to  have  mistaken  the  identity  of 
the  person  whom  she  had  discovered. 

"How  long  since?"  Julian  asked  next. 

"  Not  very  long,  sir." 

"  Be  more  particular.     How  long  ?" 

"  I  didn't  hear,  sir." 

"  Did  the  lodge-keeper's  wife  speak  to  the  person  when  she 
saw  her  ?" 

"  No,  sir :  she  didn't  get  the  chance,  as  I  understand  it. 
She  is  a  stout  woman,  if  you  remember.  The  other  was  too 
quick  for  her — discovered  her,  sir,  and  (as  the  saying  is)  gave 
her  the  slip." 

"  In  what  part  of  the  grounds  did  this  happen  ?" 

The  servant  pointed  in  the  direction  of  the  side  hall.  "  In 
that  part,  sir.  Either  in  the  Dutch  garden  or  the  shrubbery. 
I  am  not  sure  which." 

It  was  plain,  by  this  time,  that  the  man's  informatiorvwas 
too  imperfect  to  be  practically  of  any  use.  Julian  asked  if 
the  lodge-keeper's  wife  was  in  the  house. 

"  No,  sir.  Her  husband  has  gone  out  to  search  the  grounds? 
in  her  place,  and  she  is  minding  the  gate.  They  sent  their 
boy  with  the  message.  From  what  I  can  make  out  from  the 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  169 

lad,  they  would  be  thankful  if  they  could  get  a  word  more  of 
advice  from  you,  sir." 

Julian  reflected  for  a  moment. 

So  far  as  he  could  estimate  them,  the  probabilities  were 
that  the  stranger  from  Mannheim  had  already  made  her  way 
into  the  house ;  that  she  had  been  listening  in  the  billiard- 
room  ;  that  she  had  found  time  enough  to  escape  him  on  his 
approaching  to  open  the  door ;  and  that  she  was  now  (in  the 
servant's  phrase)  "somewhere  in  the  grounds,"  after  eluding 
the  pursuit  of  the  lodge-keeper's  wife. 

The  matter  was  serious.  Any  mistake  in  dealing  with  it 
might  lead  to  very  painful  results. 

If  Julian  had  correctly  anticipated  the  nature  of  the  con- 
fession which  Mercy  had  been  on  the  point  of  addressing  to 
him,  the  person  whom  he  had  been  the  means  of  introducing 
into  the  house  was — what  she  had  vainly  asserted  herself  to 
be — no  other  than  the  true  Grace  Roseberry. 

Taking  this  for  granted,  it  was  of  the  utmost  importance 
that  he  should  speak  to  Grace  privately,  before  she  commit- 
ted herself  to  any  rashly  renewed  assertion  of  her  claims,  and 
before  she  could  gain  access  to  Lady  Janet's  adopted  daugh- 
ter. The  landlady  at  her  lodgings  had  already  warned  him 
that  the  object  which  she  held  steadily  in  view  was  to  find 
her  way  to  "  Miss  Roseberry  "  when  Lady  Janet  was  not  pres- 
ent to  take  her  part,  and  when  no  gentlemen  were  at  hand  to 
protect  her.  "  Only  let  me  meet  her  face  to  face  "  (she  had 
said),  "  and  I  will  make  her  confess  herself  the  impostor  that 
she  is  !"  As  matters  now  stood,  it  was  impossible  to  estimate 
too  seriously  the  mischief  which  might  ensue  from  such  a 
meeting  as  this.  Every  thing  now  depended  on  Julian's  skill- 
ful management  of  an  exasperated  woman  ;  and  nobody,  at 
that  moment,  knew  where  the  woman  was. 

In  this  position  of  affairs,  as  Julian  understood  it,  there 
seemed  to  be  no  other  alternative  than  to  make  his  inquiries 
instantly  at  the  lodge,  and  then  to  direct  the  search  in  person 


170  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

He  looked  toward  Mercy's  chair  as  he  arrived  at  this  reso- 
lution. It  was  at  a  cruel  sacrifice  of  his  own  anxieties  and 
his  own  wishes  that  he  deferred  continuing  the  conversation 
with  her  from  the  critical  point  at  which  Lady  Janet's  ap- 
pearance had  interrupted  it. 

Mercy  had  risen  while  he  had  been  questioning  the  servant. 
The  attention  which  she  had  failed  to  accord  to  what  had 
passed  between  his  aunt  and  himself  she  had  given  to  the  im- 
perfect statement  which  he  had  extracted  from  the  man. 
Her  face  plainly  showed  that  she  had  listened  as  eagerly  as 
Lady  Janet  had  listened  ;  with  this  remarkable  difference  be- 
tween them,  that  Lady  Janet  looked  frightened,  and  that  Lady 
Janet's  companion  showed  no  signs  of  alarm.  She  appeared 
to  be  interested ;  perhaps  anxious — nothing  more. 

Julian  spoke  a  parting  word  to  his  aunt. 

"  Pray  compose  yourself,"  he  said.  "  I  have  little  doubt, 
when  I  can  learn  the  particulars,  that  we  shall  easily  find  this 
person  in  the  grounds.  There  is  no  reason  to  be  uneasy.  I 
am  going  to  superintend  the  search  myself.  I  will  return  to 
you  as  soon  as  possible." 

Lady  Janet  listened  absently.  There  was  a  certain  expres- 
sion in  her 'eyes  which  suggested  to  Julian  that  her  mind  was 
busy  with  some  project  of  its  own.  He  stopped  as  he  pass- 
ed Mercy,  on  his  way  out  by  the  billiard-room  door.  It  cost 
him  a  hard  effort  to  control  the  contending  emotions  which 
the  mere  act  of  looking  at  her  now  awakened  in  him.  His 
heart  beat  fast,  his  voice  sank  low,  as  he  spoke  to  her. 

"  You  shall  see  me  again,"  he  said.  "  I  never  was  more  in 
earnest  in  promising  you  my  truest  help  and  sympathy  than 
I  am  now." 

She  understood  him.  Her  bosom  heaved  painfully ;  her 
eyes  fell  to  the  ground — she  made  no  reply.  The  tears  rose 
in  Julian's  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her.  He  hurriedly  left  the 
room. 

When  he  turned  to  close  the  billiard-room  door  he  heard 


TIIK    M;\V    .\i.\i;ij.u.K.N.  171 

Lady  Janet  say,  "I  will  be  with  you  again  in  a  moment, 
Grace  ;  don't  go  away." 

Interpreting  these  words  as  meaning  that  his  aunt  had 
some  business  of  her  own  to  attend  to  in  the  library,  he  shut 
the  door.  He  had  just  advanced  into  the  smoking-room  be- 
yond, when  he  thought  he  heard  the  door  open  again.  He 
turned  round.  Lady  Janet  had  followed  him. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  ?"  he  asked." 

"  I  want  something  of  you,"  Lady  Janet  answered,  "  be- 
fore you  go." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

"  Your  card." 

«  My  card  ?" 

"  You  have  just  told  me  not  to  be  uneasy,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "  I  am  uneasy,  for  all  that.  I  don't  feel  as  sure  as 
you  do  that  this  wonran  really  is  in  the  grounds.  She  may 
be  lurking  somewhere  in  the  house,  and  she  may  appear  when 
your  back  is  turned.  Remember  what  you  told  me." 

Julian  understood  the  allusion.     He  made  no  reply. 

"  The  people  at  the  police  station  close  by,"  pursued  Lady 
Janet,  "  have  instructions  to  send  an  experienced  man,  in  plain 
clothes,  to  any  address  indicated  on  your  card  the  moment 
they  receive  it.  That  is  what  you  told  me.  For  Grace's  pro- 
tection, I  want  your  card  before  you  leave  us." 

It  was  impossible  for  Julian  to  mention  the  reasons  which 
now  forbade  him  to  make  use  of  his  own  precautions — in  the 
very  face  of  the  emergency  which  they  had  been  especially  in- 
tended to  meet.  I  low  could  he  declare  the  true  Grace  Hose- 
berry  to  be  mad  ?  How  could  he  give  the  true  Grace  Rose- 
berry  into  custody  ?  On  the  other  hand,  he  had  personally 
pledged  himself  (when  the  circumstances  appeared  to  re«|iiiiv 
it)  to  place  the  means  of  legal  protection  from  insult  and  an- 
noyance at  his  aunt's  disposal.  And  now,  there  stood  Lady 
Janet,  unaccustomed  to  have  her  wishes  disregard  rd  liy  any 
body,  with  her  hand  extended,  waiting  for  the  card  ! 

8* 


172  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

What  was  to  be  done  ?  The  one  way  out  of  the  difficulty 
appeared  to  be  to  submit  for  the  moment.  If  he  succeeded 
in  discovering  the  missing  woman,  he  could  easily  take  care 
that  she  should  be  subjected  to  no  needless  indignity.  If  she 
contrived  to  slip  into  the  house  in  his  absence,  he  could  pro- 
vide against  that  contingency  by  sending  a  second  card  pri- 
vately to  the  police  station,  forbidding  the  officer  to  stir  in 
the  affair  untif he  had  received  further  orders.  Julian  made 
one  stipulation  only,  before  he  handed  his  card  to  his  aunt. 

"  You  will  not  use  this,  I  am  sure,  without  positive  and 
pressing  necessity,"  lie  said.  "  But  I  must  make  one  condi- 
tion. Promise  me  to  keep  my  plan  for  communicating  with 
the  police  a  strict  secret — 

"A  strict  secret  from  Grace?"  interposed  Lady  Janet. 
(Julian  bowed.)  "Do  you  suppose  I  want  to  frighten  her? 
Do  you  think  I  have  not  had  anxiety  enough  about  her  al- 
ready? Of  course  I  shall  keep  it  a  secret  from  Grace  !" 

Re-assured  on  this  point,  Julian  hastened  out  into  the 
grounds.  As  soon  as  his  back  was  turned  Lady  Janet  lifted 
the  gold  pencil-case  which  hung  at  her  watch-chain,  and  wrote 
on  her  nephew's  card  (for  the  information  of  the  officer  in 
plain  clothes),  " You  are  wanted  at  Mablethorpe  House" 
This  done,  she  put  the  card  into  the  old-fashioned  pocket  of 
her  dress,  and  returned  to  the  dining-room. 

Grace  was  waiting,^n  obedience  to  the  instructions  which 
she  had  received. 

For  the  first  moment  or  two  not  a  word  was  spoken  on  ei- 
ther side.  Now  that  she  was  alone  with  her  adopted  daugh- 
ter, a  certain  coldness  and  hardness  began  to  show  itself  in 
Lady  Janet's  manner.  The  discovery  that  she  had  made  on 
opening  the  drawing-room  door  still  hung  on  her  mind.  Ju- 
lian had  certainly  convinced  her  that  she  had  misinterpreted 
what  she  had  seen ;  but  he  had  convinced  her  against  her 
will.  She  had  found  Mercy  deeply  agitated ;  suspiciously  si- 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  173 

lent.  Julian  might  be  innocent,  she  admitted— there  was  no 
accounting  for  the  vagaries  of  men.  But  the  case  of  Mercy 
was  altogether  different.  Women  did  not  find  themselves  in 
he  arms  of  men  without  knowing  what  they  were  about. 
Acquitting  Julian,  Lady  Janet  declined  to  acquit  Mercy. 
"  There  is  some  secret  understanding  between  them,"  thought 
the  old  lady,  "  and  she's  to  blame ;  the  women  always  are !" 

Mercy  still  waited  to  be  spoken  to ;  pale  and  quiet,  silent 
and  submissive.  Lady  Janet— in  a  highly  uncertain  state  of 
temper — was  obliged  to  begin. 

"  My  dear !"  she  called  out,  sharply.  .   • 

"  Yes,  Lady  Janet." 

"  How  much  longer  are  you  going  to  sit  there  with  your 
mouth  shut  up  and  your  eyes  on  the  carpet?  Have  you  no 
opinion  to  offer  on  this  alarming  state  of  things?  You  heanl 
what  the  man  said  to  Julian — I  saw  you  listening.  Are  you 
horribly  frightened  ?" 

"  No,  Lady  Janet." 

"  Not  even  nervous  ?" 

"  No,  Lady  Janet." 

"  Ha  !  I  should  hardly  have  given  you  credit  for  so  much 
courage  after  my  experience  of  you  a  week  ago.  I  congratu- 
late you  on  your  recovery." 

"Thank  you, Lady  Janet." 

"I  am  not  so  composed  as  you  are.  We  were  an  excitable 
set  in  my  youth — and  I  haven't  got  the  better  of  it  yet.  I 
feel  nervous.  Do  you  hear  ?  I  feel  nervous." 

"  I  am  sorry,  Lady  Janet." 

"  You  are  very  good.  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to 
do?" 

"  No,  Lady  Janet." 

"  I  am  going  to  summon  the  household.  When  I  say  the 
household,  I  mean  the  men ;  the  women  are  no  use.  I  am 
afraid  I  fail  to  attract  your  attention  ?" 

"  You  have  my  best  attention,  Lady  Janet." 


174  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  You  are  very  good  again.  I  said  the  women  were  of  no 
use." 

"  Yes,  Lady  Janet." 

"  I  mean  to  place  a  man-servant  on  guard  at  every  entrance^' 
to  the  house.  I  am  going  to  do  it  at  once.  Will  you  come 
with  me  ?" 

"  Can  I  be  of  any  use  if  I  ga  with  your  ladyship  ?" 

"You  can't  be  of  the  slightest  use.  I  give  the  orders  in 
this  house — not  you.  I  had  quite  another  motive  in  asking 
you  to  come  with  me.  I  am  more  considerate  of  you  than 
you  seem  to  think-»-I  don't  like  leaving  you  here  by  yourself. 
Do  you  understand  ?" 

"I  am  much  obliged  to  your  ladyship.  I  don't  mind  being 
left  here  by  myself." 

"  You  don't  mind  ?  I  never  heard  of  such  heroism  in  my 
life — out  of  a  novel !  Suppose  that  crazy  wretch  should  find 
her  way  in  here  ?" 

"  She  would  not  frighten  me  this  time  as  she  frightened  me 
before." 

"  Not  too  fast,  my  young  lady !  Suppose — Good  heavens ! 
now  I  think  of  it,  there  is  the  conservatory.  Suppose  she 
should  be  hidden  in  there  ?  Julian  is  searching  the  grounds. 
Who  is  to  search  the  conservatory?" 

"  With  your  ladyship's  permission,  I  will  search  the  con- 
servatory." 

"  You  ! ! !" 

"  With  your  ladyship's  permission." 

"I  can  hardly  believe  my  own  ears!  Well, 'Live  and 
learn'  is  an  old  proverb.  I  thought  I  knew  your  character. 
This  is  a  change !" 

"  You  forget,  Lady  Janet  (if  I  may  venture  to  say  so),  that 
the  circumstances  are  changed.  She  took  me  by  surprise  on 
the  last  occasion  ;  I  am  prepared  for  her  now." 

"  Do  you  really  feel  as  coolly  as  you  speak  ?" 

«  Yes,  Lady  Janet." 


THE    NEW    MAGDAI.KN.  175 

"  Have  your  own  way,  then.  I  shall  do  one  thing,  howev- 
er, in  case  of  your  having  overestimated  your  own  courage. 
I  shall  place  one  of  the  men  in  the  library.  You  will  only 
have  to  ring  for  him  if  any  thing  happens.  He  will  give  the 
alarm — and  I  shall  act  accordingly.  I  have  my  plan,"  said 
her  ladyship,  comfortably  conscious  of  the  card  in  her  pocket. 
"  Don't  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  know  what  it  is.  I  have  no 
intention  of  saying  any  thing  about  it — except  that  it  will  do. 
Once  more,  and  for  the  last  time — do  you  stay  here?  or  do 
you  go  with  me  ?" 

"  I  stay  here." 

She  respectfully  opened  the  library  door  for  Lady  Janet's 
departure  as  she  made  that  reply.  Throughout  the  interview 
she  had  been  carefully  and  coldly  deferential;  she  had  not 
once  lifted  her  eyes  to  Lady  Janet's  face.  The  conviction  in 
her  that  a  few  hours  more  would,  in  all  probability,  see  her 
dismissed  from  the  house,  had  of  necessity  fettered  every 
word  that  she  spoke — had  morally  separated  her  already  from 
the  injured  mistress  whose  love  she  had  won  in  disguise. 
Utterly  incapable  of  attributing  the  change  in  her  young  com- 
panion to  the  true  motive,  Lady  Janet  left  the  room  to  sum- 
mon her  domestic  garrison,  thoroughly  puzzled  and  (as  a  nec- 
essary consequence  of  that  condition)  thoroughly  displeased. 

Still  holding  the  library  door  in  her  hand,  Mercy  stood 
watching  with  a  heavy  heart  the  progress  of  her  benefactress 
down  the  length  of  the  room  on  the  way  to  the  front  hall  be- 
yond. She  had  honestly  loved  and  respected  the  warm-heart- 
ed, quick-tempered  old  lady.  A  sharp  pang  of  p'hin  wrung  her 
as  she  thought  of  the  time  when  even  the  chance  utterance 
of  her  name  would  become  an  unpardonable  offense  in  Lady 
Janet's  house. 

But  there  was  no  shrinking  in  her  now  from  the  ordeal  of 
the  confession.  She  was  not  only  anxious — she  was  impatient 
for  Julian's  return.  Before  she  slept  that  night  Julian's  con- 
fidence in  her  should  be  a  confidence  that  she  had  deserved. 


176  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Let  her  own  the  truth,  without  the  base  fear  of  discovery 
to  drive  her  to  it.  Let  her  do  justice  to  the  woman  whom 
she  has  wronged,  while  that  woman  is  still  powerless  to  ex- 
pose her.  Let  her  sacrifice  every  thing  that  she  has  gained 
by  the  fraud  to  the  sacred  duty  of  atonement.  If  she  can  do 
that,  then  her  repentance  has  nobly  revealed  the  noble  nature 
that  is  in  her;  then  she  is  a  woman  to  be  trusted,  respected, 
beloved."  Those  words  were  as  vividly  present  to  her  as  if 
she  still  heard  them  falling  from  his  lips.  Those  other  words 
which  had  followed  them  rang  as  grandly  as  ever  in  her  ears : 
"Rise,  poor  wounded  heart!  Beautiful,  purified  soul,  God's 
angels  rejoice  over  you  !  Take  your  place  among  the  noblest 
of  God's  creatures !"  Did  the  woman  live  who  could  hear 
Julian  Gray  say  that,  and  who  could  hesitate,  at  any  sacrifice, 
at  any  loss,  to  justify  his  belief  in  her?  "  Oh  !"  she  thought, 
longingly,  while  her  eyes  followed  Lady  Janet  to  the  end  of 
the  library, "  if  your  worst  fears  could  only  be  realized  !  If  I 
could  only  see  Grace  Roseberry  in  this  room,  how  fearlessly  I 
could  meet  her  now !" 

She  closed  the  library  door,  while  Lady  Janet  opened  the 
other  door  which  led  into  the  hall. 

As  she  turned  and  looked  back  into  the  dining-room  a  cry 
of  astonishment  escaped  her. 

There — as  if  in  answer  to  the  aspiration  which  was  still  in 
her  mind ;  there,  established  in  triumph  on  the  chair  that  she 
had  just  left — sat  Grace  Roseberry,  in  sinister  silence,  wait- 
jug  for  her. 


THE    NEW    M. \i.U.\I.K.N.  177 


*  CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE     EVIL     GENIUS. 

RECOVERING  from  the  first  overpowering  sensation  of  sur- 
prise, Mercy  rapidly  advanced,  eager  to  say  her  first  penitent 
words.  Grace  stopped  her  by  a  warning  gesture  of  the  hand. 
"No  nearer  to  me,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of  contemptuous 
command.  "  Stay  where  you  are." 

Mercy  paused.  Grace's  reception  had  startled  her.  She 
instinctively  took  the  chair  nearest  to  her  to  support  herself. 
Grace  raised  a  warning  hand  for  the  second  time,  and  issued 
another  command : 

"  I  forbid  you  to  be  seated  in  my  presence.  You  have  no 
right  to  be  in  this  house  at  all.  Remember,  if  you  please, 
who  you  are,  and  who  I  am." 

The  tone  in  which  those  words  were  spoken  was  an  insult 
in  itself.  Mercy  suddenly  lifted  her  head ;  the  angry  answer 
was  on  her  lips.  She  checked  it,  and  submitted  in  silence. 
"I  will  be  worthy  of  Julian  Gray's  confidence  in  me,"  she 
thought,  as  she  stood  patiently  by  the  chair.  "I  will  bear 
any  thing  from  the  woman  whom  I  have  wronged." 

In  silence  the  two  faced  each  other;  alone  together,  for 
the  first  time  since  they  had  met  in  the  Frerich  cottage.  The 
contrast  between  them  was  strange  to  see.  Grace  Rosebeny, 
seated  in  her  chair,  little  and  lean,  with  her  dull  white  com- 
plexion, with  her  hard,  threatening  face,  with  her  shrunken 
figure  clad  in  its  plain  and  poor  black  garments,  looked  like  a 
being  of  a  lower  sphere,  compared  with  Mercy  Merrick,  stand- 
ing erect  in  her  rich  silken  dress ;  her  tall,  shapely  figure  tow- 
ering' over  the  little  creature  before  her ;  her  grand  head 
bent  in  graceful  submission ;  gentle,  patient,  beautiful ;  a 


178  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

woman  whom  it  was  a  privilege  to  look  at  and  a  distinction 
to  admire.  If  a  stranger  had  been  told  that  those  two  had 
played  their  parts  in  a  romance  of  real  life — that  one  of  them 
was  really  connected  by  the  ties  of  relationship  with  Lady 
Janet  Roy,  and  that  the  other  had  successfully  attempted  to 
personate  her — he  would  inevitably,  if  it  had  been  left  to  him 
to  guess  which  was  which,  have  picked  out  Grace  as  -the 
counterfeit  and  Mercy  as  the  true  woman. 

Grace  broke  the  silence.  She  had  waited  to  open  her  lips 
until  she  had  eyed  her  conquered  victim  all  over,  with  dis- 
dainfully minute  attention,  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Stand  there.  I  like  to  look  at  you,"  she  said,  speaking 
with  a  spiteful  relish  of  her  own  cruel  words.  "  It's  no  use 
fainting  this  time.  You  have  not  got  Lady  Janet  Roy  to 
bring  you  to.  There  are  no  gentlemen  here  to-day  to  pity 
you  and  pick  you  up.  Mercy  Merrick,  I  have  got  you  at  last. 
Thank  God,  my  turn  has  come  !  You  can't  escape  me  now  !" 

All  the  littleness  of  heart  and  mind  which  had  first  shown 
itself  in  Grace  at  the  meeting  in  the  cottage,  when  Mercy  tola 
the  sad  story  of  her  life,  now  revealed  itself  once  more.  The 
woman  who  in  those  past  times  had  felt  no  impulse  to  take  a 
suffering  and  a  penitent  fellow-creature  by  the  hand  was  the 
same  woman  who  could  feel  no  pity,  who  could  spare  no  in- 
solence of  triumph,  now.  Mercy's  sweet  voice  answered  her 
patiently,  in  low  pleading  tones. 

"  I  have  not  avoided  you,"  she  said.  "  I  would  have  gone 
to  you  of  my  own  accord  if  I  had  known  that  you  were  here. 
It  is  my  heart-felt  wish  to  own  that  I  have  sinned  against  you, 
and  to  make  all  the  atonement  that  I  can.  I  am  too  anxious 
to  deserve  your  forgiveness  to  have  any  fear  of  seeing  you." 

Conciliatory  as  the  reply  was,  it  was  spoken  with  a  simple 
and  modest  dignity  of  manner  which  roused  Grace  Roseberry 
to  fury. 

"  How  dare  you  speak  to  me  as  if  you  were  my  equal?"  she 
burst  out.  "  You  stand  there  and  answer  me  as  if  you  had 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  170 

your  right  and  your  place  in  this  house.  You  audacious 
woman  !  I  have  my  right  and  my  place  here — and  what  am 
I  obliged  to  do  ?  I  am  obliged  to  hang  about  in  the  grounds, 
and  fly  from  the  sight  of  the  servants,  and  hide  like  a  thief, 
and  wait  like  a  beggar,  and  all  for  what  ?  For  the  chance  of 
having  a  word  with  you.  Yes  !  you,  madam  !  with  the  air 
of  the  Refuge  and  the  dirt  of  the  streets  on  you  !" 

Mercy's  head  sank  lower;  her  hand  trembled  as  it  held  by 
the  back  of  the  chair. 

It  was  hard  to  bear  the  reiterated  insults  heaped  on  her, 
but  Julian's  influence  still  made  itself  felt.  She  answered  as 
patiently  as  ever. 

"  If  it  is  your  pleasure  to  use  hard  words  to  me,"  she  said, 
"  I  have  no  right  to  resent  them." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  any  thing  !"  Grace  retorted.  "  You 
have  no  right  to  the  gown  on  your  back.  Look  at  yourself, 
and  look  at  Me  !"  Her  eyes  traveled  with  a  tigerish  stare 
over  Mercy's  costly  silk  dress.  "  Who  gave  you  that  dress? 
who  gave  you  those  jewels  ?  I  know  !  Lady  Janet  gave 
them  to  Grace  Iloseberry.  Are  you  Grace  Roseberry  ?  That 
dress  is  mine.  Take  off  your  bracelets  and  your  broach. 
They  were  meant  for  me." 

"  You  may  soon  have  them,  Miss  Roseberry.  They  will 
not  be  in  my  possession  many  hours  longer." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  However  badly  you  may  use  me,  it  is  my  duty  to  undo 
the  harm  that  I  have  done.  I  am  bound  to  do  you  justice — I 
am  determined  to  confess  the  truth." 

Grace  smiled  scornfully. 

"  Yon  confess !"  she  said.  "  Do  you  think  I  am  fool 
enough  to  believe  that?  Yon  are  one  shameful  brazen  lie 
from  head  to  foot!  Are  you  the  woman  to  give  up  your 
silks  and  your  jewels,  and  your  position  in  this  house,  and  to 
go  back  to  the  Refuge  of  your  own  accord  ?  Not  you — not 
you  !" 


180  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

A  first  faint  flush  of  color  showed  itself,  stealing  slowly 
over  Mercy's  face ;  but  she  still  held  resolutely  by  the  good 
influence  which  Julian  had  left  behind  him.  She  could  still 
say  to  herself,  "Any  thing  rather  than  disappoint  Julian  Gray." 
Sustained  by  the  courage  which  he  had  called  to  life  in  her, 
she  submitted  to  her  martyrdom  as  bravely  as  ever.  But 
there  was  an  ominous  change  in  her  now :  she  could  only  sub- 
mit in  silence  ;  she  could  no  longer  trust  herself  to  answer. 

The  mute  endurance  in  her  face  additionally  exasperated 
Grace  Roseberry. 

" You  won't  confess,"  she  went  on.  "You  have  had  a 
week  to  confess  in,  and  you  have  not  done  it  yet.  No,  no ! 
you  are  of  the  sort  that  cheat  and  lie  to  the  last.  I  am  glad 
of  it;  I  shall  have  the  joy  of  exposing  you  myself  before  the 
whole  house.  I  shall  be  the  blessed  means  of  casting  you 
back  on  the  streets.  Oh  !  it  will  be  almost  worth  all  I  have 
gone  through  to  see  you  with  a  policeman's  hand  on  your 
arm,  and  the  mob  pointing  at  you  and  mocking  you  on  your 
way  to  jail !" 

This  time  the  sting  struck  deep;  the  outrage  was  beyond 
endurance.  Mercy  gave  the  woman  who  had  again  and  again 
deliberately  insulted  her  a  first  warning. 

"  Miss  Roseberry,"  she  said,  "  I  have  borne  without  a  mur- 
mur the  bitterest  words  you  could  say  to  me.  Spare  me  any 
more  insults.  Indeed,  indeed,  I  am  eager  to  restore  you  to 
your  just  rights.  With  rny  whole  heart  I  say  it  to  you — I 
am  resolved  to  confess  every  thing !" 

She  spoke  with  trembling  earnestness  of  tone.  Grace  list- 
ened with  a  hard  smile  of  incredulity  and  a  hard  look  of 
contempt. 

"  You  are  not  far  from  the  bell,"  she  said ;  "  ring  it." 

Mercy  looked  at  her  in  speechless  surprise. 

"  You  are  a  perfect  picture  of  repentance — you  are  dying 
to  own  the  truth,"  pursued  the  other,  satirically.  "  Own  it 
before  every  body,  and  own  it  at  once.  Call  in  Lady  Janet 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  181 

—call  in  Mr.  Gray  and  Mr.  Holmcroft — call  in  the  servants. 
Go  down  on  your  knees  and  acknowledge  yourself  an  impos- 
tor before  them  all.  Then  I  will  believe  you — not  before." 

"  Don't,  don't  turn  me  against  you  !"  cried  Mercy,  entreat- 
ingly. 

"What  do  I  care  whether  you  are  against  me  or  not?" 

"Don't  —  for  your  own  sake  don't  go  on  provoking  me 
much  longer !" 

"  For  my  own  sake  ?  You  insolent  creature !  Do  you 
mean  to  threaten  me?" 

With  a  last  desperate  effort,  her  heart  beating  faster  and 
faster,  the  blood  burning  hotter  and  hotter  in  her  cheeks, 
Mercy  still  controlled  herself. 

"Have  some  compassion  on  me  !"  she  pleaded.  "Badly  as 
I  have  behaved  to  you,  I  am  still  a  woman  like  yourself.  I 
can't  face  the  shame  of  acknowledging  what  I  have  done  be- 
fore the  whole  house.  Lady  Janet  treats  me  like  a  daughter; 
Mi'.  Holmeroft  has  engaged  himself  to  marry  me.  I  can't 
tell  Lady  Janet  and  Mr.  Holmcroft  to  their  faces  that  I  have 
cheated  them  out  of  their  love.  But  they  shall  know  it,  for 
all  that.  I  can,  and  will,  before  I  rest  to-night,  tell  the  whole 
truth  to  Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

Grace  burst  out  laughing.  "Aha!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
cynical  outburst  of  gayety.  "  Now  we  have  come  to  it  at 
last !" 

"  Take  care  !"  said  Mercy.     "  Take  care !" 

"  Mr.  Julian  Gray  !  I  was  behind  the  billiard-room  door — 
I  saw  you  coax  Mr.  Julian  Gray  to  come  in !  Confession 
loses  all  its  horrors,  and  becomes  quite  a  luxury,  with  Mr. 
Julian  Gray !" 

"  No  more,  Miss  Roseberry  !  no  more  !  For  God's  sake, 
don't  put  me  beside  myself !  You  have  tortured  me  enough 
already." 

"  You  haven't  been  on  the  streets  for  nothing.  You  are  a 
woman  with  resources  j  you  know  the  value  of  having  two 


182  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

strings  to  your  bow.  If  Mr.  Holrncroft  fails  yon,  you  have 
got  Mr.  Julian  Gray.  Ah  !  you  sicken  me.  /'//  see  that 
Mr.  Holmcroft's  eyes  are  opened ;  he  shall  know  what  a  wom- 
an he  might  have  married  but  for  Me — 

She  checked  herself ;  the  next  refinement  of  insult  remain- 
ed suspended  on  her  lips. 

The  woman  whom  she  had  outraged  suddenly  advanced  on 
her.  Her  eyes,  staring  helplessly  upward,  saw  Mercy  Mer- 
rick's  face,  white  with  the  terrible  anger  which  drives  the 
blood  back  on  the  heart,  bending  threateningly  over  her. 

"'You  will  see  that  Mr.  Holmcroft's  eyes  are  opened,'" 
Mercy  slowly  repeated  ;  " '  he  shall  know  what  a  woman  he 
might  have  married  but  for  you  !'  " 

She  paused,  and  followed  those  words  by  a  question  which 
struck  a  creeping  terror  through  Grace  Roseberry,  from  the 
hair  of  her  head  to  the  soles  of  her  feet : 

"  Who  are  you?" 

The  suppressed  fury  of  look  and  tone  which  accompanied 
that  question  told,  as  no  violence  could  have  told  it,  that  the 
limits  of  Mercy's  endurance  had  been  found  at  last.  In  the 
guardian  angel's  absence  the  evil  genius  had  done  its  evil 
work.  The  better  nature  which  Julian  Gray  had  brought  to 
life  sank,  poisoned  by  the  vile  venom  of  a  woman's  spiteful 
tongue.  An  easy  and  a  terriblf  means  of  avenging  the  out- 
rages heaped  on  her  was  within  Mercy's  reach,  if  she  chose  to 
take  it.  In  the  frenzy  of  her  indignation  she  never  hesitated 
— she  took  it. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  she  asked  for  the  second  time. 

Grace  roused  herself  and  attempted  to  speak.  Mercy 
stopped  her  with  a  scornful  gesture  of  her  hand. 

"  I  remember !"  she  went  on,  with  the  same  fiercely  sup- 
pressed rage.  "You  are  the  madwoman  from  the  German 
hospital  who  came  here  a  week  ago.  I  am  not  afraid  of  you 
this  time.  Sit  down  and  rest  yourself,  Mercy  Merrick." 

Deliberately  giving  her  that  name  to  her  •face,  Mercy  turned 


THE    XEW    MAGDALEN.  183 

from  her  and  took  the  chair  which  Grace  had  forbidden  her  to 
occupy  when  the  interview  began.  Grace  started  to  her  feet, 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  she  asked. 

"  It  means,"  answered  Mercy,  contemptuously, "  that  I  re- 
call every  word  I  said  to  you  just  now.  It  means  that  I  am 
resolved  to  keep  my  place  in  this  house." 

"Are  you  out  of  your  senses  ?" 

"  You  are  not  far  from  the  bell.  Ring  it.  Do  what  yon 
asked  me  to  do.  Call  in  the  whole  household,  and  ask  them 
which  of  us  is  mad — you  or  I." 

"  Mercy  Merrick  !  you  shall  repent  this  to  the  last  hour  of 
your  life !" 

Mercy  rose  again,  and  fixed  her  flashing  eyes  on  the  woman 
who  still  defied  her. 

"  I  have  had  enough  of  you  !"  she  said.  "  Leave  the  house 
while  you  ean  leave  it.  Stay  here,  and  I  will  send  for  Lady 
Janet  Roy." 

"  You  can't  send  for  her  !     You  daren't  send  for  her  !" 

"I  can  and  I  dare.  You  have  not  a  shadow  of  a  proof 
against  me.  I  have  got  the  papers;  I  am  in  possession  of 
the  place;  I  have  established  myself  in  Lady  Janet's  confi- 
dence. I  mean  to  deserve  your  opinion  of  me — I  will  keep 
my  dresses  and  my  jewels  and  my  position  in  the  house.  I 
deny  that  I  have  done  wrong.  Society  has  used  me  cruelly; 
I  owe  nothing  to  Society.  I  have  a  right  to  take  any  advan- 
tage of  it  if  I  can.  I  deny  that  I  have  injured  you.  How 
was  I  to  know  that  you  would  come  to  life  again  ?  Have 
I  degraded  your  name  and  your  character?  I  have  done 
honor  to  both.  I  have  won  every  body's  liking  and  every 
body's  respect.  Do  you  think  Lady  Janet  would  have  loved 
you  as  she  loves  me  ?  Not  she  !  I  tell  you  to  your  face  I 
have  filled  the  false  position  more  creditably  than  you  could 
have  filled  the  true  one,  and  I  mean  to  keep  it.  I  won't  give 
up  your  name ;  I  won't  restore  your  character !  Do  your 
worst;  I  defy  you  !" 


184  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

She  poured  out  those  reckless  words  in  one  headlong  flow 
which  defied  interruption.  There  was  no  answering  her  un- 
til she  was  too  breathless  to  say  more.  Grace  seized  her  op- 
portunity the  moment  it  was  within  her  reach. 

"You  defy  me?"  she  returned,  resolutely.  "You  won't 
defy  me  long.  I  have  written  to  Canada.  My  friends  will 
speak  for  me." 

"  What  of  it,  if  they  do  ?  Your  friends  are  strangers  here. 
I  am  Lady  Janet's  adopted  daughter.  Do  you  think  she  will 
believe  your  friends  ?  She  will  believe  me.  She  will  burn 
their  letters  if  they  write.  She  will  forbid  the  house  to  them 
if  they  come.  I  shall  be  Mrs.  Horace  Holmcrof t  in'  a  week's 
time.  Who  can  shake  my  position  ?  Who  can  injure 
Me?" 

"  Wait  a  little.     You  forget  the  matron  at  the  Jlef uge." 

"  Find  her,  if  you  can.  I  never  told  you  her  name.  1 
never  told  you  where  the  Refuge  was." 

"  I  will  advertise  your  name,  and  find  the  matron  in  that 
way." 

"Advertise  in  every  newspaper  in  London.  Do  you  think 
I  gave  a  stranger  like  you  the  name  I  really  bore  in  the  Ref- 
uge ?  I  gave  you  the  name  I  assumed  when  I  left  England. 
No  such  person  as  Mercy  Merrick  is  known  to  the  matron. 
No  such  person  is  known  to  Mr.  Holmcroft.  He  saw  me  at 
the  French  cottage  while  you  were  senseless  on  the  bed.  I 
had  my  gray  cloak  on ;  neither  he  nor  any  of  them  saw  me 
in  my  nurse's  dress.  Inquiries  have  been  made  about  me  on 
the  Continent — and  (I  happen  to  know  from  the  person  who 
made  them)  with  no  result.  I  am  safe  in  your  place ;  I  am 
known  by  your  name.  I  am  Grace  Roseberry ;  and  you  are 
Mercy  Merrick.  Disprove  it  if  you  can  !" 

Summing  up  the  unassailable  security  of  her  false  position 
in  those  closing  words,  Mercy  pointed  significantly  to  the 
billiard-room  door. 

"  You  were  hiding  there,  by  your  own  confession,"  she  said. 


THE    NKW    MAGUAl.KN.  185 

"  You  know  your  way  out  by  that  door.  Will  you  leave  the 
room  ?" 

"  I  won't  stir  a  step  !" 

Mercy  walked  to  a  side-table,  and  struck  the  bell  placed 
on  it. 

At  the  same  moment  the  billiard-room  door  opened.  Ju- 
lian Gray  appeared — returning  from  his  unsuccessful  search 
in  the  grounds. 

He  had  barely  crossed  the  threshold  before  the  library  door 
was  thrown  open  next  by  the  servant  posted  in  the  room. 
The  man  drew  back  respectfully,  and  gave  admission  to  Lady 
Janet  Roy.  She  was  followed  by  Horace  Holmcroft  with  his 
mother's  wedding  present  to  Mercy  in  his  hand. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE    POLICEMAN    IX    PLAIN    CLOTHES. 

JULIAN  looked  round  the  room,  and  stopped  at  the  door 
which  he  had  just  opened. 

His  eyes  rested  first  on  Mercy,  next  on  Grace. 

The  disturbed  faces  of  both  the  women  told  him  but  too 
plainly  that  the  disaster  which  he  had  dreaded  had  actually 
happened.  They  had  met  without  any  third  person  to  inter- 
fere between  them.  To  what  extremities  the  hostile  inter- 
view might  have  led  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  guess.  In 
his  aunt's  presence  he  could  only  wait  his  opportunity  of 
speaking  to  Mercy,  and  be  ready  to  interpose  if  any  thing 
was  ignorantly  done  which  might  give  just  cauSfe  of  offense 
to  Grace. 

Lady  Janet's  course  of  action  on  entering  the  dining-room 
was  in  perfect  harmony  with  Lady  Janet's  character. 

Instantly  discovering  the  intruder,  she  looked  sharply  at 
Mercy.  "What  did  I  tell  you?"  she  asked.  "Are  you 
frightened  ?  No  !  not  in  the  least  frightened  !  Wonderful !" 


186  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

She  turned  to  the  servant.  "  Wait  in  the  library  ;  f  may 
want  you  again."  She  looked  at  Julian.  "Leave  it  all  to 
me  ;  I  can  manage  it."  She  made  a  sign  to  Horace.  "  Stay 
where  you  are,  and  hold  your  tongue."  Having  now  said  all 
that  was  necessary  to  every  one  else,  she  advanced  to  the 
part  of  the  room  in  which  Grace  was  standing,  with  lowering 
brows  and  firmly  shut  lips,  defiant  of  every  body. 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  offend  you,  or  to  act  harshly  toward 
you,"  her  ladyship  began,  very  quietly.  "  I  only  suggest  that 
your  visits  to  my  house  can  not  possibly  lead  to  any  satisfac- 
tory result.  I  hope  you  will  not  oblige  me  to  say  any  harder 
words  than  these — I  hope  you  will  understand  that  I  wish 
you  to  withdraw." 

The  order  of  dismissal  could  hardly  have  been  issued  with 
more  humane  consideration  for  the  supposed  mental  infirmity 
of  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  Grace  instantly  re- 
sisted it  in  the  plainest  possible  terms. 

"  In  justice  to  my  father's  memory  and  in  justice  to  my- 
self," she  answered, "  I  insist  on  a  hearing.  I  refuse  to  with- 
draw." She  deliberately  took  a  chair  and  seated  herself  in  the 
presence  of  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

Lady  Janet   waited  a   moment  —  steadily  controlling  her 
temper.     In  the  interval  of  silence  Julian  seized  the  opportu 
nity  of  remonstrating  with  Grace. 

"  Is  this  what  you  promised  me  ?"  he  asked,  gently.  "  You 
gave  me  your  word  that  you  would  not  return  to  Mable- 
thorpe  House." 

Before  he  could  say  more  Lady  Janet  had  got  her  temper 
under  command.  She  began  her  answer  to  Grace  by  point- 
ing with  a  peremptory  forefinger  to  the  library  door. 

"  If  you  have  not  made  up  your  mind  to  take  my  advice  by 
the  time  I  have  walked  back  to  that  door,"  she  said, "  I  will 
put  it  out  of  your  power  to  set  me  at  defiance.  I  am  used  to 
be  obeyed,  and  I  will  be  obeyed.  You  force  me  to  use  ham 
words-  I  warn  you  before  it  is  too  late.  Go  1" 


.THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  187 

She  returned  slowly  toward  the  library.  Julian  attempted 
to  interfere  with  another  word  of  remonstrance.  His  aunt 
stopped  him  by  a  gesture  which  said,  plainly,  "I  insist  on 
acting  for  myself."  He  looked  next  at  Mercy.  Would  she 
remain  passive  ?  Yes.  She  never  lifted  her  head  ;  she  never 
moved  from  the  place  in  which  she  was  standing  apart  from 
the  rest.  Horace  himself  tried  to  attract  her  attention,  and 
tried  in  vain. 

Arrived  at  the  library  door,  Lady  Janet  looked  over  her 
shoulder  at  the  little  immovable  black  figure  in  the  chair. 

"Will  you  go?"  she  asked, for  the  last  time. 

Grace  started  up  angrily  from  her  seat,  and  fixed  her  viper- 
ish  eyes  on  Mercy. 

"I  won't  be  turned  out  of  your  ladyship's  house  in  the 
presence  of  that  impostor,"  she  said.  "  I  may  yield  to  force, 
but  I  will  yield  to  nothing  else.  I  insist  on  my  right  to  the 
place  that  she  has  stolen  from  me.  It's  no  use  scolding  me," 
she  added,  turning  doggedly  to  Julian.  "As  long  as  that 
woman  is  here  under  my  name  I  can't  and  won't  keep  away 
from  the  house.  T  warn  her,  in  your  presence,  that  I  have 
written  to  my  friends  in  Canada !  I  dare  her  before  you  all 
to  deny  that  she  is  the  outcast  and  adventuress,  Mercy  Mer- 
rick !" 

The  challenge  forced  Mercy  to  take  part  in  the  proceedings, 
in  her  own  defense.  She  had  pledged  herself  to  meet  and 
defy  Grace  Roseberry  on  her  own  ground.  She  attempted  to 
speak — Horace  stopped  her. 

"You  degrade  yourself  if  you  answer  her,"  he  said. 
"  Take  my  arm,  and  let  us  leave  the  room." 

"  Yes  !  Take  her  out !"  cried  Grace.  "  She  may  well  be 
ashamed  to  face  an  honest  woman.  It's  her  place  to  leave 
the  room — not  mine !" 

Mercy  drew  her  hand  out  of  Horace's  arm.  "  I  decline  to 
leave  the  room,"  she  said,  quietly. 

Horace  still  tried  to  persuade  her  to  withdraw.     "I  can't 


188  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

bear  to  hear  you  insulted,"  he  rejoined.  "The  woman  of- 
fends me,  though  I  know  she  is  not  responsible  for  what  she 
says." 

"Nobody's  endurance  will  be  tried  much  longer,"  said 
Lady  Janet.  She  glanced  at  Julian,  and  taking  from  her 
pocket  the  card  which  he  had  given  to  her,  opened  the  libra- 
ry door. 

"  Go  to  the  police  station,"  she  said  to  the  servant  in  an 
undertone,  "and  give  that  card  to  the  inspector  on  duty. 
Tell  him  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose." 

"  Stop !"  said  Julian,  before  his  aunt  could  close  the  door 
again. 

"  Stop  ?"  repeated  Lady  Janet,  sharply.  "  I  have  given  the 
man  his  orders.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Before  you  send  the  card  I  wish  to  say  a  word  in  private 
to  this  lady,"  replied  Julian,  indicating  Grace.  "  When  that 
is  done,"  he  continued,  approaching  Mercy,  and  pointedly  ad- 
dressing himself  to  her, "  I  shall  have  a  request  to  make — I 
shall  ask  you  to  give  me  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to  you 
without  interruption." 

His  tone  pointed  the  allusion.  Mercy  shrank  from  looking 
at  him.  The  signs  of  painful  agitation  began  to  show  them- 
selves in  her  shifting  color  and  her  uneasy  silence.  Roused 
by  Julian's  significantly  distant  1'eference  to  what  had  passed 
between  them,  her  better  impulses  were  struggling  already  to 
recover  their  influence  over  her.  She  might,  at  that  critical 
moment,  have  yielded  to  the  promptings  of  her  own  nobler 
nature — she  might  have  risen  superior  to  the  galling  remem- 
brance of  the  insults  that  had  been  heaped  upon  her — if 
Grace's  malice  had  not  seen  in  her  hesitation  a  means  of  refer- 
ring offensively  once  again  to  her  interview  with  Julian  Gray. 

"  Pray  don't  think  twice  about  trusting  him  alone  with  me," 
she  said,  with  a  sardonic  affectation  of  politeness.  "jT  am  not 
interested  in  making  a  conquest  of  Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

The  jealous  distrust  in  Horace  (already  awakened  by  Ju- 


THK   NEW   MAGDALEN.  189 

liuu's  request)  now  attempted  to  assert  itself  openly.  Before 
lie  could  speak,  Mercy's  indignation  had  dictated  Mercy's  an- 
K\ver. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Gray,"  she  said,  addressing 
Julian  (but  still  not  raising  her  eyes  to  his).  "  I  have  noth- 
ing more  to  say.  There  is  no  need  for  me  to  trouble  you 
again." 

In  those  rash  words  she  recalled  the  confession  to  which 
she  stood  pledged.  In  those  rash  words  she  committed  her- 
self to  keeping  the  position  that  she  had  usurped,  in  the  face 
of  the  woman  whom  she  had  deprived  of  it ! 

Horace  was  silenced,  but  not  satisfied.  He  saw  Julian's 
eyes  fixed  in  sad  and  searching  attention  on  Mercy's  face 
while  she  was  speaking.  He  heard  Julian  sigh  to  himself 
when  she  had  done.  He  observed  Julian — after  a  moment's 
serious  consideration,  and  a  moment's  glance  backward  at  the 
stranger  in  the  poor  black  clothes— lift  his  head  with  the  air 
of  a  man  who  had  taken  a  sudden  resolution. 

"  Bring  me  that  card  directly,"  he  said  to  the  servant.  His 
tone  announced  that  he  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  The  man 
obeyed. 

Without  answering  Lady  Janet — who  still  peremptorily  in- 
sisted on  her  right  to  act  for  herself — Julian  took  the  pencil 
from  his  pocket-book  and  added  his  signature  to  the  writing 
already  inscribed  on  the  card.  When  he  had  handed  it  back 
to  the  servant  he  made  his  apologies  to  his  aunt. 

"  Pardon  me  for  venturing  to  interfere,"  he  said.  "  There 
is  a  serious  reason  for  what  I  have  done,-  which  I  will  explain 
to  you  at  a  fitter  time.  In  the  mean  while  I  offer  no  further 
obstruction  to  the  course  which  you  propose  taking.  On  the 
contrary,  I  have  just  assisted  you  in  gaining  the  end  that  you 
have  in  view." 

As  he  said  that  he  held  up  the  pencil  with  which  he  had 
signed  his  name. 

Lady  Janet,  naturally  perplexed,  and  (with  some  reason, 


190  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

perhaps)  offended  as  well,  made  no  answer.     She  waved  her 
hand  to  the  servant,  and  sent  him  away  with  the  card. 

There  was  silence  in  the  room.  The  eyes  of  all  the  persons 
present  turned  more  or  less  anxiously  on  Julian.  Mercy  was 
vaguely  surprised  and  alarmed.  Horace,  like  Lady  Janet,  felt 
offended,  without  clearly  knowing  why.  Even  Grace  Rose- 
berry  herself  was  subdued  by  her  own  presentiment  of  some 
coming  interference  for  which  she  was  completely  unprepared. 
Julian's  words  and  actions,  from  the  moment  when  he  had 
written  on  the  card,  were  involved  in  a  mystery  to  which  not 
one  of  the  persons  round  him  held  the  clue. 

The  motive  which  had  animated  his  conduct  may,  neverthe- 
less, be  described  in  two  words :  Julian  still  held  to  his  faith 
in  the  inbred  nobility  of  Mercy's  nature. 

He  had  inferred,  with  little  difficulty,  from  the  language 
which  Grace  had  used  toward  Mercy  in  his  presence,  that  the 
injured  woman  must  have  taken  pitiless  advantage  of  her  po- 
sition at  the  interview  which  he  had  interrupted.  Instead  of 
appealing  to  Mercy's  sympathies  and  Mercy's  sense  of  right — 
instead  of  accepting  the  expression  of  her  sincere  contrition, 
and  encouraging  her  to  make  the  completes!  and  the  speed- 
iest atonement — Grace  had  evidently  outraged  and  insulted 
her.  As  a  necessary  result,  her  endurance  had  given  way 
— under  her  own  sense  of  intolerable  severity  and  intolerable 
wrong. 

The  remedy  for  the  mischief  thus  done  was,  as  Julian  had 
first  seen  it,  to  speak  privately  with  Grace,  to  soothe  her  by 
owning  that  his  opinion  of  the  justice  of  her  claims  had  un- 
dergone a  change  in  her  favor,  and  then  to  persuade  her,  in 
her  own  interests,  to  let  him  carry  to  Mercy  such  expressions 
of  apology  and  regret  as  might  lead  to  a  friendly  understand- 
ing between  them. 

With  those  motives,  he  had  made  his  request  to  be  permit- 
ted to  speak  separately  to  the  one  and  the  other.  The  scene 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  19] 

that  had  followed,  the  new  insult  offered  by  Grace,  and  the 
answer  which  it  had  wrung  from  Mercy,  had  convinced  him 
that  no  such  interference  as  he  had  contemplated  would  have 
the  slightest  prospect  of  success. 

The  one  remedy  now  left  to  try  was  the  desperate  remedy 
of  letting  things  take  their  course,  and  trusting  implicitly  to 
Mercy's  better  nature  for  the  result. 

Let  her  see  the  police  officer  in  plain  clothes  enter  the  room. 
Let  her  understand  clearly  what  the  result  of  his  interference 
would  be.  Let  her  confront  the  alternative  of  consigning 
Grace  Roseberry  to  a  mad-house  or  of  confessing  the  truth — 
and  what  would  happen  ?  If  Julian's  confidence  in  her  was  a 
confidence  soundly  placed,  she  would  nobly  pardon  the  out- 
rages that  had  been  heaped  upon  her,  and  she  would  do  jus- 
tice to  the  woman  whom  she  had  wronged. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  his  belief  in  her  was  nothing  better 
than  the  blind  belief  of  an  infatuated  man — if  she  faced  the 
alternative  and  persisted  in  asserting  her  assumed  identity — 
what  then  ? 

Julian's  faith  in  Mercy  refused  to  let  that  darker  side  of 
the  question  find  a  place  in  his  thoughts.  It  rested  entirely 
with  him  to  bring  the  officer  into  the  house.  He  had  pre- 
vented Lady  Janet  from  making  any  mischievous  use  of  his 
card  by  sending  to  the  police  station  and  warning  them  to 
attend  to  no  message  which  they  might  receive  unless  the 
CTrd  produced  bore  his  signature.  Knowing  the  responsibil- 
ity that  he  was  taking  on  himself — knowing  that  Mercy  had 
made  no  confession  to  him  to  which  it  was  possible  to  appeal 
—  he  had  signed  his  name  without  an  instant's  hesitation: 
and  there  he  stood  now,  looking  at  the  woman  whose  better 
nature  he  was  determined  to  vindicate,  the  only  calm  person 
in  the  room. 

Horace's  jealousy  saw  something  suspiciously  suggestive 
of  a  private  understanding  in  Julian's  earnest  attention  and 


192  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

in  Mercy's  downcast  face.     Having  no  excuse  for  open  inter- 
ference, he  made  an  effort  to  part  them. 

"You  spoke  just  now,"  he  said  to  Julian,  "of  wishing  to 
say  a  word  in  private  to  that  person."  (He  pointed  to  Grace.) 
"  Shall  we  retire,  or  will  you  take  her  into  the  library  ?" 

"  I  refuse  to  have  any  thing  to  say  to  him,"  Grace  burst 
out,  before  Julian  could  answer.  "  I  happen  to  know  that  he 
is  the  last  person  to  do  me  justice.  He  lias  been  effectually 
hoodwinked.  If  I  speak  to  any  body  privately,  it  ought  to 
be  to  you.  You  have  the  greatest  interest  of  any  of  them  in 
finding  out  the  truth." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  Do  you  want  to  marry  an  outcast  from  the  streets  ?" 

Horace  took  one  step  forward  toward  her.  There  was  a 
look  in  his  face  which  plainly  betrayed  that  he  was  capable 
of  turning  her  out  of  the  house  with  his  own  hands.  Lady 
Janet  stopped  him. 

"You  were  right  in  suggesting  just  now  that  Grace  had 
better  leave  the  room,"  she  said.  "  Let  us  all  three  go.  Ju- 
lian will  remain  here  and  give  the  man  his  directions  when 
he  arrives.  Come." 

No.  By  a  strange  contradiction  it  was  Horace  himself 
who  now  interfered  to  prevent  Mercy  from  leaving  the  room. 
In  the  heat  of  his  indignation  he  lost  all  sense  of  his  own  dig- 
nity; he  descended  to  the  level  of  a  woman  whose  intellect 
he  believed  to  be  deranged.  To  the  surprise  of  every  one 
present,  he  stepped  back  and  took  from  the  table  a  jewel-case 
which  he  had  placed  there  when  he  came  into  the  room.  It 
was  the  wedding  present  from  his  mother  which  he  had 
brought  to  his  betrothed  wife.  His  outraged  self-esteem 
seized  the  opportunity  of  vindicating  Mercy  by  a  public  be 
stowal  of  the  gift. 

"  Wait !"  he  called  out,  sternly.  "  That  wretch  shall  have 
her  answer.  She  has  sense  enough  to  see,  and  sense  enough 
to  hear.  Let  her  see  and  hear !" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  193 

He  opened  the  jewel-case,  and  took  from  it  a  magnificent 
pearl  necklace  in  an  antique  setting. 

"  Grace,"  he  said,  with  his  highest  distinction  of  manner, 
"my  mother  sends  you  her  love  and  her  congratulations  on 
our  approaching  marriage.  She  begs  you  to  accept,  as  part 
of  your  bridal  dress,  these  pearls.  She  was  married  in  them 
herself.  They  have  been  in  our  family  for  centuries.  As 
one  of  the  family,  honored  and  beloved,  my  mother  offers 
them  to  my  wife." 

He  lifted  the  necklace  to  clasp  it  round  Mercy's  neck. 

Julian  watched  her  in  breathless  suspense.  Would*  she 
sustain  the  ordeal  through  which  Horace  had  innocently  con- 
demned her  to  pass? 

Yes  !  In  the  insolent  presence  of  Grace  Roseberry,  what 
was  there  now  that  she  could  not  sustain?  Her  pride  was 
in  arms.  Her  lovely  eyes  lighted  up  as  only  a  woman's  eyes 
can  light  up  when  they  see  jewelry.  Her  grand  head  bent 
gracefully  to  receive  the  necklace.  Her  face  warmed  into  col- 
or ;  her  beauty  rallied  its  charms.  Her  triumph  over  Grace 
Roseberry  was  complete !  Julian's  head  sank.  For  one  sad 
moment  he  secretly  asked  himself  the  question,  "Have  I  been 
mistaken  in  her?" 

Horace  arrayed  her  in  the  pearls. 

"  Your  husband  puts  these  pearls  on  your  neck,  love,"  he 
said,  proudly,  and  paused  to  look  at  her.  "  Now,"  he  added, 
with  a  contemptuous  backward  glance  at  Grace, "  we  may  go 
into  the  library.  She  has  seen,  and  she  has  heard." 

He  believed  that  he  had  silenced  her.  He  had  simply  fur- 
nished her  sharp  tongue  with  a  new  sting. 

"  You  will  hear,  and  you  will  see,  when  my  proofs  come 
from  Canada,"  she  retorted.  "You  will  hear  that  your  wife 
has  stolen  my  name  and  my  character !  You  will  see  your 
wife  dismissed  from  this  house  !" 

Mercy  turned  on  her  with  an  uncontrollable  outburst  of 
passion. 


194  THE    NEW   MAGDAXEN. 

"  You  are  mad !"  she  cried. 

Lady  Janet  caught  the  electric  infection  of  anger  in  the  air 
of  the  room.  She  too  turned  on  Grace.  She  too  said  it : 

"  You  are  mad  !" 

Horace  followed  Lady  Janet.  He  was  beside  himself.  lie 
fixed  his  pitiless  eyes  on  Grace,  and  echoed  the  contagious 
words : 

"  You  are  mad !" 

She  was  silenced,  she  was  daunted  at  last.  The  treble  ac- 
cusation revealed  to  her,  for  the  first  time,  the  frightful  sus- 
picion to  which  she  had  exposed  herself.  She  shrank  back, 
with  a  low  cry  of  horror,  and  struck  against  a  chair.  She 
would  have  fallen  if  Julian  had  not  sprung  forward  and 
caught  her. 

Lady  Janet  led  the  way  into  the  library.  She  opened  the 
door — started  —  and  suddenly  stepped  aside,  so  as  to  leave 
the  entrance  free. 

A  man  appeared  in  the  open  door- way. 

He  was  not  a  gentleman ;  he  was  not  a  workman ;  he  was 
not  a  servant.  He  was  vilely  dressed,  in  glossy  black  broad- 
cloth. His  frock-coat  hung  on  him  instead  of  fitting  him. 
His  waistcoat  was  too  short  and  too  tight  over  the  chest. 
His  trowsers  were  a  pair  of  shapeless  black  bags.  His  gloves 
were  too  large  for  him.  His  highly-polished  boots  creaked 
detestably  whenever  he  moved.  He  had  odiously  watchful 
eyes — eyes  that  looked  skilled  in  peeping  through  key-holes. 
His  large  ears,  set  forward  like  the  ears  of  a  monkey,  pleaded 
guilty  to  meanly  listening  behind  other  people's  doors.  His 
manner  was  quietly  confidential  when  he  spoke,  impenetrably 
self-possessed  when  he  was  silent.  A  lurking  air  of  secret 
service  enveloped  the  fellow,  like  an  atmosphere  of  his  own, 
from  head  to  foot.  He  looked  all  round  the  magnificent 
room  without  betraying  either  surprise  or  admiration.  He 
closely  investigated  every  person  in  it  with  one  glance  of  his 
cunningly  watchful  eyes.  Making  his  bow  to  Lady  Janet,  he 


i  UK    \MV   M.V<;DAI.KN.  195 

silently  showed  her,  as  his  introduction,  the  card  that  had 
summoned  him.  And  then  he  stood  at  ease,  self-reveah-d  in 
his  own  sinister  identity— a  police  officer  in  plain  clothes. 

Nobody  spoke  to  him.  Every  body  shrank  inwardly  as  if 
a  reptile  had  crawled  into  the  room. 

He  looked  backward  and  forward,  perfectly  unembarrassed, 
between  Julian  and  Horace. 

"  Is  Mr.  Julian  Gray  here  ?"  he  asked. 

Julian  led  Grace  to  a  seat.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  the 
man.  She  trembled — she  whispered,  "  Who  is  he?"  Julian 
spoke  to  the  police  officer  without  answering  her. 

"  Wait  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a  chair  in  the  most 
distant  corner  of  the  room.  "  I  will  speak  to  you  directly." 

The  man  advanced  to  the  chair,  marching  to  the  discord 
of  his  creaking  boots.  He  privately  valued  the  carpet  at  so 
much  a  yard  as  he  walked  over  it.  He  privately  valued  the 
chair  at  so  much  the  dozen  as  he  sat  down  on  it.  He  was 
quite  at  his  ease :  it  was  no  matter  to  him  whether  he  waited 
and  did  nothing,  or  whether  he  pried  into  the  private  char- 
acter of  every  one  in  the  room,  as  long  as  he  was  paid  for  it. 

Even  Lady  Janet's  resolution  to  act  for  herself  was  not 
proof  against  the  appearance  of  the  policeman  in  plain  clothes. 
She  left  it  to  her  nephew  to  take  the  lead.  Julian  glanced 
at  Mercy  before  he  stirred  further  in  the  matter.  lie  alone 
knew  that  the  end  rested  now  not  with  him,  but  with  her. 

She  felt  his  eye  on  her  while  her  own  eyes  were  looking  at 
the  man.  She  turned  her  head — hesitated — and  suddenly  ap- 
proached Julian.  Like  Grace  Roseberry,  she  \vas  trembling. 
Like  Grace  Roseberry,  she  whispered,  "  Who  is  he  ?" 

Julian  told  her  plainly  who  he  was. 

"Why  is  he  here?" 

"  Can't  you  guess  ?" 

"  No !" 

Horace  left  Lady  Janet,  and  joined  Mercy  and  Julian — im- 
patient of  tin.'  private-  colloquy  between  them. 

y* 


196  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"Am  I  in  the  way  ?"  he  inquired. 

Julian  drew  back  a  little,  understanding  Horace  perfectly. 
He  looked  round  at  Grace.  Nearly  the  whole  length  of  the 
spacious  room  divided  them  from  the  place  in  which  she  was 
sitting.  She  had  never  moved  since  he  had  placed  her  in  a 
chair.  The  direst  of  all  terrors  was  in  possession  of  her — 
terror  of  the  unknown.  There  was  no  fear  of  her  interfering, 
and  no  fear  of  her  hearing  what  they  said  so  long  as  they 
were  careful  to  speak  in  guarded  tones.  Julian  set  the  ex- 
ample by  lowering  his  voice. 

"Ask  Horace  why  the  police  officer  is  here?"  he  said  to 
Mercy. 

She  put  the  question  directly.     "  Why  is  he  here  ?" 

Horace  looked  across  the  room  at  Grace,  and  answered, 
"  He  is  here  to  relieve  us  of  that  woman." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  will  take  her  away  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Where  will  he  take  her  to  ?" 

"  To  the  police  station." 

Mercy  started,  and  looked  at  Julian.  He  was  still  watch- 
ing the  slightest  changes  in  her  face.  She  looked  back  again 
at  Horace. 

"  To  the  police  station  !"  she  repeated.     "  What  for  ?" 

"  How  can  you  ask  the  question  ?"  said  Horace,  irritably. 
"  To  be  placed  under  restraint,  of  course." 

"  Do  you  mean  prison  ?" 

"  I  mean  an  asylum." 

Again  Mercy  turned  to  Julian.  There  was  horror  now,  as 
well  as  surprise,  in  her  face.  "  Oh  !"  she  said  to  him,  "  Hor- 
ace is  surely  wrong?  It  can't  be ?" 

Julian  left  it  to  Horace  to  answer.  Every  faculty  in  him 
seemed  to  be  still  absorbed  in  watching  Mercy's  face.  She 
was  compelled  to  address  herself  to  Horace  once  more. 

"What  sort  of  asylum?"  she  asked.  "You  don't  surely 
mean  a  mad-house  ?" 


THE    NEW    MAiiUAI  I   V  197 

"  1  do,"  he  rejoined.  "  The  work-house  first,  perhaps — and 
then  the  mad-house.  What  is  there  to  surprise  you  in  that  V 
You  yourself  told  her  to  her  face  she  was  mad.  Good  heav- 
ens !  how  pale  you  are  !  What  is  the  matter  ?" 

She  turned  to  Julian  for  the  third  time.  The  terrible  al- 
ternative that  was  offered  to  her  had  showed  itself  at  last, 
without  reserve  or  disguise.  Restore  the  identity  that  you 
have  stolen,  or  shut  her  up  in  a  mad-house — it  rests  with  you 
to  choose !  In  that  form  the  situation  shaped  itself  in  her 
mind.  She  chose  on  the  instant.  Before  she  opened  her  lips 
the  higher  nature  in  her  spoke  to  Julian,  in  her  eyes.  The 
steady  inner  light  that  he  had  seen  in  them  once  already  shone 
in  them  .again,  brighter  and  purer  than  before.  The  con- 
science that  he  had  fortified,  the  soul  that  he  had  saved, 
looked  at  him  and  said,  Doubt  us  no  more ! 

"  Send  that  man  out  of  the  house." 

Those  were  her  first  words.  She  spoke  (pointing  to  the 
police  officer)  in  clear,  ringing,  resolute  tones,  audible  in  the 
remotest  corner  of  the  room. 

Julian's  hand  stole  unobserved  to  hers,  and  told  her,  in  its 
momentary  pressure,  to  count  on  his  brotherly  sympathy  and 
help.  All  the  other  persons  in  the  room  looked  at  her  in 
speechless  surprise.  Grace  rose  from  her  chair.  Even  the 
man  in  plain  clothes  started  to  his  feet.  Lady  Janet  (hurried- 
ly joining  Horace,  and  fully  sharing  his  perplexity  and  alarm) 
took  Mercy  impulsively  by  the  arm,  and  shook  it,  as  if  to 
rouse  her  to  a  sense  of  what  she  was  doing.  Mercy  held  firm ; 
Mercy  resolutely  repeated  what  she  had  said  :  "  Send  that 
man  out  of  the  house." 

Lady  Janet  lost  all  her  patience  with  her.  "What  has 
come  to  you ?"  she  asked,  sternly.  " Do  you  know  what  y.n 
are  saying?  The  man  is  here  in  your  interest,  as  well  as  in 
mine ;  the  man  is  here  to  spare  you,  as  well  as  me,  further 
annoyance  and  insult.  And  you  insist— insist,  in  ray  presence 
—on  his  being  sent  away  !  What  doi-s  it  mean  ?" 


198  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"  You  shall  know  what  it  means,  Lady  Janet,  in  half  an 
hour.  I  don't  insist— I  only  reiterate  my  entreaty.  Let  the 
man  be  sent  away." 

Julian  stepped  aside  (with  his.  aunt's  eyes  angrily  following 
him)  and  spoke  to  the  police  officer.  "  Go  back  to  the  sta- 
tion," he  said, "  and  wait  there  till  you  hear  from  me." 

The  meanly  vigilant  eyes  of  the  man  in  plain  clothes  travel- 
ed sidelong  from  Julian  to  Mercy,  and  valued  her  beauty  as 
they  had  valued  the  carpet  and  the  chairs.  "  The  old  story," 
he  thought.  "  The  nice-looking  woman  is  always  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it ;  and,  sooner  or  later,  the  nice-looking  woman  has 
her  way."  He  marched  back  across  the  room,  to  the  discord 
of  his  own  creaking  boots,  bowed,  with  a  villainous  smile 
which  put  the  worst  construction  on  every  thing,  and  vanish- 
ed through  the  library  door. 

Lady  Janet's  high  breeding  restrained  her  from  saying  any 
thing  until  the  police  officer  was  out  of  hearing.  Then,  and 
not  till  then,  she  appealed  to  Julian. 

"I  presume  you  are  in  the  secret  of  this?"  she  said.  "I 
suppose  you  have  some  reason  for  setting  my  authority  at 
defiance  in  my  own  house?" 

"  I  have  never  yet  failed  to  respect  your  ladyship,"  Julian 
answered.  "  Before  long  you  will  know  that  I  am  not  failing 
in  respect  toward  you  now." 

Lady  Janet  looked  across  the  room.  Grace  was  listening 
eagerly,  conscious  that  events  had  taken  some  mysterious  turn 
in  her  favor  within  the  last  minute. 

"  Is  it  part  of  your  new  arrangement  of  my  affairs,"  her 
ladyship  continued,  "  that  this  person  is  to  remain  in  the 
house  ?" 

The  terror  that  had  daunted  Grace  had  not  lost  all  hold  of 
her  yet.  She  left  it  to  Julian  to  reply.  Before  he  could  speak 
Mercy  crossed  the  room  and  whispered  to  her, "  Give  me  time 
to  confess  it  in  writing.  I  can't  own  it  before  them — with 
this  round  my  neck."  She  pointed  to  the  necklace.  Grace 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  199 

cast  a  threatening  glance  at  her,  and  suddenly  looked  away 
again  in  silence. 

Mercy  answered  Lady  Janet's  question.  "  I  beg  your  lady- 
ship to  permit  her  to  remain  until  the  half  hour  is  over,"  she 
said.  "My  request  will  have  explained  itself  by  that  time." 

Lady  Janet  raised  no  further  obstacles.  Something  in 
Mercy's  face,  or  in  Mercy's  tone,  seemed  to  have  silenced  her, 
as  it  had  silenced  Grace.  Horace  was  the  next  who  spoke. 
In  tones  of  suppressed  rage  and  suspicion  he  addressed  him- 
self to  Mercy,  standing  fronting  him  by  Julian's  side. 

"Am  I  included,"  he  asked,  "in  the  arrangement  which  en- 
gages you  to  explain  your  extraordinary  conduct  in  half  an 
hour  ?" 

His  hand  had  placed  his  mother's  wedding  present  round 
Mercy's  neck.  A  sharp  pang  wrung  her  as  she  looked  at 
Horace,  and  saw  how  deeply  she  had  already  distressed  and 
offended  him.  The  tears  rose  in  her  eyes ;  she  humbly  and 
faintly  answered  him. 

"  If  you  please,"  was  all  she  could  say,  before  the  cruel 
swelling  at  her  heart  rose  and  silenced  her. 

Horace's  sense  of  injury  refused  to  be  soothed  by  such  sim- 
ple submission  as  this. 

"  I  dislike  mysteries  and  innuendoes,"  he  went  on,  harshly. 
"In  my  family  circle  we  are  accustomed  to  meet  each  other 
frankly.  Why  am  I  to  wait  half  an  hour  for  an  explanation 
which  might  be  given  now?  What  am  I  to  wait  for?" 

Lady  Janet  recovered  herself  as  Horace  spoke. 

"  I  entirely  agree  with  you,"  she  said.  "  I  ask,  too,  what 
are  we  to  wait  for  ?" 

Even  Julian's  self-possession  failed  him  when  his  aunt  re- 
peated that  cruelly  plain  question.  How  would  Mercy  an- 
S\V*T  it?  Would  her  courage  still  hold  out? 

"  You  have  asked  me  what  you  are  to  wait  for,"  she  said 
to  Horace,  quietly  and  firmly.  "  Wait  to  hear  something 
more  of  Mercy  Merrick." 


200  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Lady  Janet  listened  with  a  look  of  weary  disgust. 

"Don't  return  to  that!"  she  said.  "We  know  enough 
about  Mercy  Merrick  already." 

"Pardon  me  —  your  ladyship  does  not  know.  I  am  the 
only  person  who  can  inform  you." 

"You?" 

She  bent  her  head  respectfully. 

"  I  have  begged  you,  Lady  Janet,  to  give  me  half  an  hour," 
she  went  on.  "  In  half  an  hour  I  solemnly  engage  myself  to 
produce  Mercy  Merrick  in  this  room.  Lady  Janet  Roy,  Mr. 
Horace  Holmcroft,  you  are  to  wait  for  that." 

Steadily  pledging  herself  in  those  terms  to  make  her  con- 
fession, she  unclasped  the  pearls  from  her  neck,  put  them  away 
in  their  case,  and  placed  it  in  Horace's  hand.  "  Keep  it,"  she 
said,  with  a  momentary  faltering  in  her  voice,  "  until  we  meet 
again." 

Horace  took  the  case  in  silence ;  he  looked  and  acted  like  a 
man  whose  mind  was  paralyzed  by  surprise.  His  hand  moved 
mechanically.  His  eyes  followed  Mercy  with  a  vacant,  ques- 
tioning look.  Lady  Janet  seemed,  in  her  different  way,  to 
share  the  strange  oppression  that  had  fallen  on  him.  A  vague 
sense  of  dread  and  distress  hung  like  a  cloud  over  her  mind. 
At  that  memorable  moment  she  felt  her  age,  she  looked  her 
age,  as  she  had  never  felt  it  Or  looked  it  yet. 

"  Have  I  your  ladyship's  leave,"  said  Mercy,  respectfully, 
"  to  go  to  my  room  ?" 

Lady  Janet  mutely  granted  the  request.  Mercy's  last  look, 
before  she  went  out,  was  a  look  at  Grace.  "Are  you  satis- 
fied now  ?"  the  grand  gray  eyes  seemed  to  say,  mournfully. 
Grace  turned  her  head  aside,  with  a  quick,  petulant  action. 
Even  her  narrow  nature  opened  for  a  moment  unwillingly, 
and  let  pity  in  a  little  way,  in  spite  of  itself. 

Mercy's  parting  words  recommended  Grace  to  Julian's  care : 

"  You  will  see  that  she  is  allowed  a  room  to  wait  in  ?  You 
will  warn  her  yourself  when  the  half  hour  has  expired  ?" 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  201 

Julian  opened  the  library  door  for  her. 

"  Well  done  !  Nobly  done  !"  he  whispered.  "All  my  sym- 
pathy is  with  you — all  my  help  is  yours." 

Her  eyes  looked  at  him,  and  thanked  him,  through  her 
gathering  tears.  His  own  eyes  were  dimmed.  She  passed 
quietly  down  the  room,  and  was  lost  to  him  before  he  had 
shut  the  door  again. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE   FOOTSTEP   IN   THE    CORRIDOR. 

MERCY  was  alone. 

She  had  secured  one  half  hour  of  retirement  in  her  own 
room,  designing  to  devote  that  interval  to  the  writing  of  her 
confession,  in  the  form  of  a  letter  addressed  to  Julian  Gray. 

No  recent  change  in  her  position  had,  as  yet,  mitigated  her 
horror  of  acknowledging  to  Horace  and  to  Lady  Janet  that 
she  had  won  her  way  to  their  hearts  in  disguise.  Through 
Julian  only  could  she  say  the  words  which  were  to  establish 
Grace  Roseberry  in  her  right  position  in  the  house. 

How  was  her  confession  to  be  addressed  to  him  ?  In  writ- 
ing ?  or  by  word  of  mouth  ? 

After  all  that  had  happened,  from  the  time  when  Lady  Ja- 
net's appearance  had  interrupted  them,  she  would  have  felt 
relief  rather  than  embarrassment  in  personally  opening  her 
heart  to  the  man  who  had  so  delicately  understood  her,  who 
had  so  faithfully  befriended  her  in  her  sorest  need.  But  the 
repeated  betrayals  of  Horace's  jealous  suspicion  of  Julian 
warned  her  that  she  would  only  be  surrounding  herself  with 
new  difficulties,  and  be  placing  Julian  in  a  position  of  painful 
embarrassment,  if  she  admitted  him  to  a  private  interview 
while  Horace  was  in  the  house. 

The  one  course  left  to  take  was  the  course  that  she  had 
adopted.  Determining  to  address  the  narrative  of  the  Fraud 


202  THE    NEW    MAGUALEX. 

to  Julian  iu  the  form  of  a  letter,  she  arranged  to  add,  at  the 
close,  certain  instructions,  pointing  out  to  him  the  line  of  con- 
duct which  she  wished  him  to  pursue. 

These  instructions  contemplated  the  communication  of  her 
letter  to  Lady  Janet  and  to  Horace  in  the  library,  while  Mercy 
— self-confessed  as  the  missing  woman  whom  she  had  pledged 
herself  to  produce — awaited  in  the  adjoining  room  whatever 
sentence  it  pleased  them  to  pronounce  on  her.  Her  resolu- 
tion not  to  screen  herself  behind  Julian  from  any  consequences 
which  might  follow  the  confession  had  taken  root  in  her  mind 
from  the  moment  when  Horace  had  harshly  asked  her  (and 
when  Lady  Janet  had  joined  him  in  asking)  why  she  delayed 
her  explanation,  and  what  she  was  keeping  them  waiting  for. 
Out  of  the  very  pain  which  those  questions  inflicted,  the  idea 
of  waiting  her  sentence  in  her  own  person  in  one  room,  while 
her  letter  to  Julian  was  speaking  for  her  in  another,  had 
sprung  to  life.  "  Let  them  break  my  heart  if  they  like,"  she 
had  thought  to  herself,  in  the  self-abasement  of  that  bitter 
moment ;  "  it  will  be  no  more  than  I  have  deserved." 

She  locked  her  door  and  opened  her  writing-desk.  Know- 
ing what  she  had  to  do,  she  tried  to  collect  herself  and  do  it. 

The  effort  was  in  vain.  Those  persons  who  study  writing 
as  an  art  are  probably  the  only  persons  who  can  measure  the 
vast  distance  which  separates  a  conception  as  it  exists  in  the 
mind  from  the  reduction  of  that  conception  to  form  and  shape 
in  words.  The  heavy  stress  of  agitation  that  had  been  laid 
on  Mercy  for  hours  together  had  utterly  unfitted  her  for  the 
delicate  and  difficult  process  of  arranging  the  events  of  a  nar- 
rative in  their  due  sequence  and  their  due  proportion  toward 
each  other.  Again  and  again  she  tried  to  begin  her  letter, 
and  again  and  again  she  was  baffled  by  the  same  hopeless  con- 
fusion of  ideas.  She  gave  up  the  struggle  in  despair. 

A  sense  of  sinking  at  her  heart,  a  weight  of  hysterical  op- 
pression on  her  bosom,  warned  her  not  to  leave  herself  unoc- 


THE    NEW    MAGDAT.KX.  203 

cupied,  a  prey  to  morbid  self-investigation  and  imaginary 
alarms. 

She  turned  instinctively,  for  a  temporary  employment  of 
some  kind,  to  the  consideration  of  her  own  future.  Here 
there  were  no  intricacies  or  entanglements.  The  prospect  be- 
gan and  ended  with  her  return  to  the  Refuge,  if  the  matron 
would  receive  her.  She  did  no  injustice  to  Julian  Gray ; 
that  great  heart  would  feel  for  her,  that  kind  hand  would 
be  held  out  to  her,  she  knew.  But  what  would  happen  if 
she  thoughtlessly  accepted  all  that  his  sympathy  might  offer? 
Scandal  would  point  to  her  beauty  and  to  his  youth,  and 
would  place  its  own  vile  interpretation  on  the  purest  friend- 
ship that  could  exist  between  them.  And  he  would  be  the 
sufferer,  for  fie  had  a  character — a  clergyman's  character — to 
lose.  No.  For  his  sake,  out  of  gratitude  to  him,  the  fare- 
well to  Mablethorpe  House  must  be  also  the  farewell  to  Ju- 
lian Gray. 

The  precious  minutes  were  passing.  She  resolved  to  write 
to  the  matron  and  ask  if  she  might  hope  to  be  forgiven  and 
employed  at  the  Refuge  again.  Occupation  over  the  letter 
that  was  easy  to  write  might  have  its  fortifying  effect  on  her 
mind,  and  might  pave  the  way  for  resuming  the  letter  that 
\v:is  hard  to  write.  She  waited  a  moment  at  the  window, 
thinking  of  the  past  life  to  which  she  was  soon  to  return,  be- 
fore she  took  up  the  pen  again. 

Her  window  looked  eastward.  The  dusky  glare  of  lighted 
London  met  her  as  her  eyes  rested  on  the  sky.  It  seemed  to 
beckon  her  back  to  the  horror  of  the  cruel  streets — to  point 
her  way  mockingly  to  the  bridges  over  the  black  river — to 
lure  her  to  the  top  of  the  parapet,  and  the  dreadful  leap  into 
God's  arms,  or  into  annihilation — who  knew  which  ? 

She  turned,  shuddering,  from  the  window.  "  Will  it  end 
in  that  way,"  she  asked  herself,  "  if  the  matron  says  No  ?" 

She  began  her  letter. 


204  THE    NEW    MAGDALEX. 

"DEAR  MADAM, — So  long  a  time  has  passed  since  you 
heard  from  me  that  I  almost  shrink  from  writing  to  you.  i. 
am  afraid  you  have  already  given  me  up  in  your  own  mind  as 
a  hard-hearted,  ungrateful  woman. 

"I  have  been  leading  a  false  life;  I  have  not  been  fit  to 
write  to  you  before  to-day.  Now,  when  I  am  doing  what  I 
can  to  atone  to  those  whom  I  have  injured — now,  when  I  re- 
pent with  my  whole  heart — may  I  ask  leave  to  return  to  the 
friend  who  has  borne  with  me  and  helped  me  through  many 
miserable  years  ?  Oh,  madam,  do  not  cast  me  off !  I  have 
no  one  to  turn  to  but  you. 

"  Will  you  let  me  own  every  thing  to  you  ?  Will  you  for- 
give me  when  you  know  what  I  have  done?  Will  you  take 
me  back  into  the  Refuge,  if  you  have  any  employment  for  me 
by  which  I  may  earn  my  shelter  and  my  bread  ? 

"  Before  the  night  comes  1  must  leave  the  house  from 
which  I  am  now  writing.  I  have  nowhere  to  go  to.  The 
little  money,  the  few  valuable  possessions  I  have,  must  be  left 
behind  me :  they  have  been  obtained  under  false  pretenses ; 
they  are  not  mine.  No  more  forlorn  creature  than  I  am  lives 
at  this  moment.  You  are  a  Christian  woman.  Not  for  my 
sake — for  Christ's  sake — pity  me  and  take  me  back. 

"  I  am  a  good  nurse,  as  you  know,  and  I  am  a  quick  worker 
with  my  needle.  In  one  way  or  the  other  can  you  not  find 
occupation  for  me  ? 

"  I  could  also  teach,  in  a  very  unpretending  way.  But  that 
is  useless.  Who  would  trust  their  children  to  a  woman  with- 
out a  character?  There  is  no  hope  for  me  in  this  direction. 
And  yet  I  am  so  fond  of  children  !  I  think  I  could  be,  not 
happy  again,  perhaps,  but  content  with  my  lot,  if  I  could  be 
associated  with  them  in  some  way.  Are  there  not  charitable 
societies  which  are  trying  to  help  and  protect  destitute  chil- 
dren wandering  about  the  streets  ?  I  think  of  my  own 
wretched  childhood  —  and  oh !  I  should  so  like  to  be  em- 
ployed in  saving  other  children  from  ending  as  I  have  ended. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  205 

I  could  work,  for  such  an  object  as  that,  from  morning  to 
night,  and  never  feel  weary.  All  my  heart  would  be  in  it ; 
and  I  should  have  this  advantage  over  happy  and  prosperous 
women — I  should  have  nothing  else  to  think  of.  Surely  they 
might  trust  me  with  the  poor  little  starving  wanderers  of  the 
streets — if  you  said  a  word  for  me?  If  I  am  asking  too 
much,  please  forgive  me.  I  am  so  wretched,  madam  —  so 
lonely  and  so  weary  of  my  life. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  more.  My  time  here  is  very 
short.  Will  you  please  reply  to  this  letter  (to  say  yes  or  no) 
by  telegram  ? 

"The  name  by  which  you  know  me  is  not  the  name  by- 
which  I  have  been  known  here.  I  must  beg  you  to  address 
the  telegram  to  'The  Reverend  Julian  Gray,  Mablethorpe 
House,  Kensington.'  He  is  here,  and  he  will  show  it  to  me. 
No  words  of  mine  can  describe  what  I  owe  to  him.  He  has 
never  despaired  of  me — he  has  saved  mo  from  myself.  God 
bless  and  reward  the  kindest,  truest,  best  man  I  have  ever 
known ! 

"  I  have  no  more  to  say,  except  to  ask  you  to  excuse  this 
long  letter,  and  to  believe  me  your  grateful  servant,  ." 

* 

She  signed  and  inclosed  the  letter,  and  wrote  the  address. 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  an  obstacle  which  she  ought  to  have 
seen  before  showed  itself,  standing  straight  in  her  way. 

There  was  no  time  to  forward  her  letter  in  the  ordinary 
manner  by  post.  It  must  be  taken  to  its  destination  by  a 
private  messenger.  Lady  Janet's  servants  had  hitherto  been, 
one  and  all,  at  her  disposal.  Could  she  presume  to  employ 
them  on  her  own  affairs,  when  she  might  be  dismissed  from 
the  house,  a  disgraced  woman,  in  half  an  hour's  time?  Of 
the  two  alternatives  it  seemed  better  to  take  her  chance,  and 
present  herself  at  the  Refuge  without  asking  leave  first. 

While  she  was  still  considering  the  question  she  was  start- 
led by  a  knock  at  her  door.  On  opening  it  thr  ;;di,iitt(.l 


206  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Lady  Janet's  maid,  with  a  morsel  of  folded  note-paper  in  her 
hand. 

"From  my  lady,  miss,"  said  the  woman,  giving  her  the 
note.  "  There  is  no  answer." 

Mercy  stopped  her  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  room. 
The  appearance  of  the  maid  suggested  an  inquiry  to  her. 
She  asked  if  any  of  the  servants  were  likely  to  be  going  into 
town  that  afternoon. 

"Yes,  miss.  One  of  the  grooms  is  going  on  horseback, 
with  a  message  to  her  ladyship's  coach-maker." 

The  Refuge  was  close  by  the  coach-maker's  place  of  busi- 
ness. Under  the  circumstances,  Mercy  was  emboldened  to 
make  use  of  the  man.  It  was  a  pardonable  liberty  to  employ 
his  services  now. 

"  Will  you  kindly  give  the  groom  that  letter  for  me  ?"  she 
said.  "  It  will  not  take  him  out  of  his  way.  He  has  only  to 
deliver  it — nothing  more." 

The  woman  willingly  complied  with  the  request.  Left  once 
more  by  herself,  Mercy  looked  at  the  little  note  which  had 
been  placed  in  her  hands. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  her  benefactress  had  employed 
this  formal  method  of  communicating  with  her  when  they 
were  both  in  the  house.  What  did  such  a  departure  from 
established  habits  mean.  Had  she  received  her  notice  of  dis- 
missal? Had  Lady  Janet's  quick  intelligence  found  its  way 
already  to  a  suspicion  of  the  truth  ?  Mercy's  nerves  were 
unstrung.  She  trembled  pitiably  as  she  opened  the  folded 
note. 

It  began  without  a  form  of  address,  and  it  ended  without 
a  signature.  Thus  it  ran  : 

"I  must  request  you  to  delay  for  a  little  while  the  explana- 
tion which  you  have  promised  me.  At  rny  age,  painful  sur- 
prises are  very  trying  things.  I  must  have  time  to  compose 
myself,  before  I  can  hear  what  you  have  to  say.  You  shall 
not  be  kept  waiting  longer  than  I  can  help.  In  the  mean 


THE  NEW  MAGDALEN:  207 

while  every  thing  will  go  on  as  usual.  My  m-phcw  Julian, 
and  Horace  Holmcroft,  and  the  lady  whom  I  found  in  the 
dining-room,  will,  by  my  desire,  remain  in  the  house  until  I  am 
able  to  meet  them,  and  to  meet  you,  again." 

There  the  note  ended.     To  what  conclusion  did  it  point? 

Had  Lady  Janet  really  guessed  the  truth  ?  or  had  she  only 
surmised  that  her  adopted  daughter  was  connected  in  some 
discreditable  manner  with  the  mystery  of  "  Mercy  Merrick  ;•" 
The  line  in  which  she  referred  to  the  intruder  in  the  dining- 
room  as  "  the  lady  "  showed  very  remarkably  that  her  opin- 
ions had  undergone  a  change  in  that  quarter.  But  was  the 
phrase  enough  of  itself  to  justify  the  inference  that  she  had 
actually  anticipated  the  nature  of  Mercy's  confession  ?  It  was 
not  easy  to  decide  that  doubt  at  the  moment — and  it  proved 
to  be  equally  difficult  to  throw  any  light  on  it  at  an  after- 
time.  To  the  end  of  her  life  Lady  Janet  resolutely  refused 
to  communicate  to  any  one  the  conclusions  which  she  might 
have  privately  formed,  the  griefs  which  she  might  have  secret- 
ly stifled,  on  that  memorable  day. 

Amidst  much,  however,  which  was  beset  with  uncertainty, 
one  thing  at  least  was  clear.  The  time  at  Mercy's  disposal 
in  her  own  room  had  been  indefinitely  prolonged  by  Mercy's 
benefactress.  Hours  might  pass  before  the  disclosure  to 
which  she  stood  committed  would  be  expected  from  her.  In 
those  hours  she  might  surely  compose  her  mind  sufficiently 
to  be  able  to  write  her  letter  of  confession  to  Julian  Gray. 

Once  more  she  placed  the  sheet  of  paper  before  her.  Rr-t 
ing  her  head  on  her  hand  as  she  sat  at  the  table,  she  tried  to 
trace  her  way  through  the  labyrinth  of  the  past,  beginning 
with  the  day  when  she  had  met  Grace  Uoseberry  in  the 
French  cottage,  and  ending  with  the  day  which  had  brought 
them  face  to  face, for  the  second  time,  in  the  dining-room  at 
Mablethorpe  House. 

The  chain  of  events  began  to  unroll  itself  in  her  mind  clear 
ly,  link  by  link. 


208  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

She  remarked,  as  she  pursued  the  retrospect,  how  strangely 
Chance,  or  Fate,  had  paved  the  way  for  the  act  of  personation, 
;.n  the  first  place. 

If  they  had  met  under  ordinary  circumstances,  neither  Mer- 
cy nor  Grace  would  have  trusted  each  other  with  the  confi- 
dences which  had  been  exchanged  between  them.  As  the 
event  had  happened,  they  had  come  together,  under  those  ex- 
traordinary circumstances  of  common  trial  and  common  peril, 
in  a  strange  country,  which  would  especially  predispose  two 
women  of  the  same  nation  to  open  their  hearts  to  each  other. 
In  no  other  way  could  Mercy  have  obtained  at  a  first  inter- 
view that  fatal  knowledge  of  Grace's  position  and  Grace's 
affairs  which  had  placed  temptation  before  her,  as  the  neces- 
sary consequence  that  followed  the  bursting  of  the  German 
shell. 

Advancing  from  this  point  through  the  succeeding  series 
of  events  which  had  so  naturally  and  yet  so  strangely  favored 
the  perpetration  of  the  fraud,  Mercy  reached  the  later  period 
when  Grace  had  followed  her  to  England.  Here  again  she 
remarked,  in  the  second  place,  how  Chance,  or  Fate,  had  once 
more  paved  the  way  for  that  second  meeting  which  had  con- 
fronted them  with  one  another  at  Mablethorpe  House. 

She  had,  as  she  well  remembered,  attended  at  a  certain  as- 
sembly (convened  by  a  charitable  society)  in  the  character  of 
Lady  Janet's  representative,  at  Lady  Janet's  own  request. 
For  that  reason  she  had  been  absent  from  the  house  when 
Grace  had  entered  it.  If  her  return  had  been  delayed  by  a 
few  minutes  only,  Julian  would  have  had  time  to  take  Grace 
out  of  the  room,  and  the  terrible  meeting  which  had  stretched 
Mercy  senseless  on  the  floor  would  never  have  taken  place. 
As  the  event  had  happened,  the  period  of  her  absence  had 
been  fatally  shortened  by  what  appeared  at  the  time  to  be  the 
commonest  possible  occurrence.  The  persons  assembled  at 
the  society's  rooms  had  disagreed  so  seriously  on  the  business 
which  had  brought  them  together  as  to  render  it  necessary  to 


THE    NEW   MAGDAl.KX.  209 

take  the  ordinary  course  of  adjourning  the  i  roceedings  to  a 
future  day.  And  Chance,  or  Fate,  had  so  timed  that  adjourn- 
ment as  to  bring  Mercy  back  into  the  dining-room  exactly 
at  the  moment  when  Grace  Rosebcrry  insisted  on  being  con- 
fronted with  the  woman  who  had  taken  her  place. 

She  had  never  yet  seen  the  circumstances  in  this  sinister 
light.  She  was  alone  in  her  room,  at  a  crisis  in  her  life.  She 
was  worn  and  weakened  by  emotions  which  had  shaken  her 
to  the  soul. 

Little  by  little  she  felt  the  enervating  influences  let  loose 
on  her,  in  her  lonely  position,  by  her  new  train  of  thought. 
Little  by  little  her  heart  began  to  sink  under  the  stealthy 
chill  of  superstitious  dread.  Vaguely  horrible  presentiments 
throbbed  in  her  with  her  pulses,  flowed  through  her  with  her 
blood.  Mystic  oppressions  of  hidden  disaster  hovered  over 
her  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  room.  The  cheerful  candle-light 
turned  traitor  to  her  and  grew  dim.  Supernatural  murmurs 
trembled  round  the  house  in  the  moaning  of  the  winter  wind. 
She  was  afraid  to  look  behind  her.  On  a  sudden  she  felt  her 
own  cold  hands  covering  her  face,  without  knowing  when  she 
had  lifted  them  to  it,  or  why. 

Still  helpless  under  the  horror  that  held  her,  she  suddenly 
heard  footsteps — a  man's  footsteps — in  the  corridor  outside. 
At  other  times  the  sound  would  have  startled  her:  now  it 
broke  the  spell.  The  footsteps  suggested  life,  companionship, 
human  interposition — no  matter  of  what  sort.  She  mechan- 
ically took  up  her  pen;  she  found  herself  beginning  to  re- 
member her  letter  to  Julian  Gray. 

At  the  same  moment  the  footsteps  stopped  outside  her 
door.  The  man  knocked. 

She  still  felt  shaken.  She  was  hardly  mistress  of  herself 
yet.  A  faint  cry  of  alarm  escaped  her  at  the  sound  of  the 
knock.  Before  it  could  be  repeated  she  had  rallied  her  cour- 
age, and  had  opened  the  door. 

The  man  in  the  corridor  was  Horace  Ilolmcroft. 


210  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

His  ruddy  complexion  had  turned  pale.  His  hair  (of 
which  he  was  especially  careful  at  other  times)  was  in  disor- 
der. The  superficial  polish  of  his  manner  was  gone ;  the  un- 
disguised man,  sullen,  distrustful,  irritated  to  the  last  degree 
of  endurance,  showed  through.  He  looked  at  her  with  a 
watchfully  suspicious  eye ;  he  spoke  to  her,  without  preface 
or  apology,  in  a  coldly  angry  voice. 

"Are  you  aware,"  he  asked,  "  of  what  is  going  on  down 
stairs  ?" 

"  I  have  not  left  my  room,"  she  answered.  "  I  know  that 
Lady  Janet  has  deferred  the  explanation  which  I  had  proau 
ised  to  give  her,  and  I  know  no  more." 

"  Has  nobody  told  you  what  Lady  Janet  did  after  you  left 
us?  Has  nobody  told  you  that  she  politely  placed  her  own 
boudoir  at  the  disposal  of  the  very  woman  whom  she  had  or- 
dered half  an  hour  before  to  leave  the  house  ?  Do  you  really 
not  know  that  Mr.  Julian  Gray  has  himself  conducted  this 
suddenly-honored  guest  to  her  place  of  retirement?  and  that 
I  am  left  alone  in  the  midst  of  these  changes,  contradictious, 
and  mysteries — the  only  person  who  is  kept  out  in  the  dark?" 

"  It  is  surely  needless  to  ask  me  these  questions,"  said  Mer- 
cy, gently.  "  Who  could  possibly  have  told  me  what  was  go- 
ing on  below  stairs  before  you  knocked  at  my  door  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  with  an  ironical  affectation  of  surprise. 

"You  are  strangely  forgetful  to-day,"  he  said.  "Surely 
your  friend  Mr.  Julian  Gray  might  have  told  you  ?  I  am  as- 
tonished to  hear  that  he  has  not  had  his  private  interview 
yet." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,  Horace." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  understand  me,"  he  retorted,  irrita- 
bly. "The  proper  person  to  understand  me  is  Julian  Gray. 
I  look  to  him  to  account  to  me  for  the  confidential  relations 
which  seem  to  have  been  established  between  you  behind  my 
back.  He  has  avoided  me  thus  far,  but  I  shall  find  my  way 
to  him  yet." 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  211 

His  manner  threatened  more  than  his  words  expressed.  In 
Mercy's  nervous  condition  at  the  moment,  it  suggested  to  her 
that  he  might  attempt  to  fasten  a  quarrel  on  Julian  Gray. 

"  You  are  entirely  mistaken,"  she  said,  warmly.  "  You  are 
ungratefully  doubting  your  best  and  truest  friend.  I  say 
nothing  of  myself.  You  will  soon  discover  why  I  patiently 
submit  to  suspicions  which  other  women  would  resent  as  an 
insult." 

"  Let  me  discover  it  at  once.  Now !  Without  wasting  a 
moment  more !" 

There  had  hitherto  been  some  little  distance  between  them. 
Mercy  had  listened,  waiting  on  the  threshold  of  her  door; 
Horace  had  spoken,  standing  against  the  opposite  wall  of  the 
corridor.  When  he  said  his  last  words  he  suddenly  stepped 
forward,  and  (with  something  imperative  in  the  gesture)  laid 
his  hand  on  her  arm.  The  strong  grasp  of  it  almost  hurt  her. 
She  struggled  to  release  herself. 

"  Let  rne  go !"  she  said.     "  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

He  dropped  her  arm  as  suddenly  as  he  had  taken  it. 

"  You  shall  know  what  I  mean,"  he  replied.  "  A  woman 
who  has  grossly  outraged  and  insulted  you — whose  only  ex- 
cuse is  that  she  is  mad — is  detained  in  the  house  at  your  de- 
sire, I  might  almost  sny  at  your  command,  when  the  police 
officer  is  waiting  to  take  her  away.  I  have  a  right  to  know 
what  this  means.  I  am  engaged  to  marry  you.  If  you  won't 
trust  other  people,  you  are  bound  to  explain  yourself  to  Me. 
I  refuse  to  wait  for  Lady  Janet's  convenience.  I  insist  (if 
you  force  rne  to  say  so) — I  insist  on  knowing  the  real  nature 
of  your  connection  witli  this  affair.  You  have  obliged  me  to 
follow  you  here;  it  is  my  only  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
you.  You  avoid  me ;  you  shut  yourself  up  from  me  in  your 
own  room.  I  am  not  your  husband  yet — I  have  no  right  to 
follow  you  in.  But  there  are  other  rooms  open  to  us.  The 
library  is  at  our  disposal,  and  I  will  take  care  that  we  are  not 
interrupted.  I  am  now  going  there,  and  I  have  a  last  ques- 


212  THB   NEW    MAGDALEN. 

tion  to  ask.  You  are  to  be  my  wife  iu  a  week's  time:  will 
you  take  me  iuto  your  confidence  or  not?" 

To  hesitate  was,  in  this  case,  literally  to  be  lost.  Mercy's 
sense  of  justice  told  her  that  Horace  had  claimed  no  more 
than  his  due.  She  answered  instantly : 

"  I  will  follow  you  to  the  library,  Horace,  in  five  minutes." 

Her  prompt  and  frank  compliance  with  his  wishes  surprised 
and  touched  him.  He  took  her  hand. 

She  had  endured  all  that  his  angry  sense  of  injury  could 
say.  His  gratitude  wounded  her  to  the  quick.  The  bitterest 
moment  she  had  felt  yet  was  the  moment  in  which  he  raised 
her  hand  to  his  lips,  and  murmured  tenderly,  "  My  own  true 
Grace !"  She  could  only  sign  to  him  to  leave  her,  and  hurry 
back  into  her  own  room. 

Her  first  feeling,  when  she  found  herself  alone  again,  was 
wonder — wonder  that  it  should  never  have  occurred  to  her, 
until  he  had  himself  suggested  it,  that  her  betrothed  husband 
had  the  foremost  right  to  her  confession.  Her  horror  at  own- 
ing to  either  of  them  that  she  had  cheated  them  out  of  their 
love  had  hitherto  placed  Horace  and  Lady  Janet  on  the  same 
level.  She  now  saw  for  the  first  time  that  there  was  no  com- 
parison between  the  claims  which  they  respectively  had  on 
her.  She  owned  an  allegiance  to  Horace  to  which  Lady  Janet 
could  assert  no  right.  Cost  her  what  it  might  to  avow  the 
truth  to  him  with  her  own  lips,  the  cruel  sacrifice  must  be 
made. 

Without  a  moment's  hesitation  she  put  away  her  writing 
materials.  It  amazed  her  that  she  should  ever  have  thought 
of  using  Julian  Gray  as  an  interpreter  between  the  man  to 
whom  she  was  betrothed  and  herself.  Julian's  sympathy  (she 
thought)  must  have  made  a  strong  impression  on  her  indeed 
to  blind  her  to  a  duty  which  was  beyond  all  compromise, 
which  admitted  of  no  dispute ! 

She  had  asked  for  five  minutes  of  delay  before  she  followed 
Horace.  It  was  too  long  a  time. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  213 

Her  one  chance  of  finding  courage  to  crush  him  with  the 
dreadful  revelation  of  who  she  really  was,  of  what  sh»-  had 
really  done,  was  to  plunge  headlong  into  the  disclosure  with- 
out giving  herself  time  to  think.  The  shame  of  it  would 
overpower  her  if  she  gave  herself  time  to  think. 

She  turned  to  the  door  to  follow  him  at  once. 

Even  at  that  terrible  moment  the  most  ineradicable  of  all 
a  woman's  instincts — the  instinct  of  personal  self-respect — 
brought  her  to  a  pause.  She  had  passed  through  more  than 
one  terrible  trial  since  she  had  dressed  to  go  down  stars. 
Remembering  this,  she  stopped  mechanically,  retraced  her 
steps,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  glass. 

There  was  no  motive  of  vanity  in  what  she  now  did.  The 
action  was  as  unconscious  as  if  she  had  buttoned  an  unfasten- 
ed glove,  or  shaken  out  a  crumpled  dress.  Not  the  faiutest 
idea  crossed  her  mind  of  looking  to  see  if  her  beauty  might 
still  plead  for  her,  and  of  trying  to  set  it  off  at  its  best. 

A  momentary  smile,  the  most  weary,  the  most  hopeless, 
that  ever  saddened  a  woman's  face,  appeared  in  the  reflection 
which  her  mirror  gave  her  back.  "  Haggard,  ghastly,  old  be- 
fore my  time  !"  she  said  to  herself.  "  Well !  better  so.  He 
will  feel  it  less — he  will  not  regret  me." 

With  that  thought  she  went  down  stairs  to  meet  him  in  the 
library. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    MAN    IN   THE    DINING-ROOM. 

IN  the  great  emergencies  of  life  we  feel,  01*  we  act,  as  our 
dispositions  incline  us.  But  we  never  think.  Mercy's  mind 
was  a  blank  as  she  descended  the  stairs.  On  her  way  down 
she  was  conscious  of  nothing  but  the  one  headlong  impulse  to 
get  to  the  library  in  the  shortest  possible  space  of  time.  Ai- 
med at  the  door,  the  impulse  capriciously  left  her.  She  stop- 


214  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

ped  on  the  mat,  wondering  why  she  had  hurried  herself,  with 
time  to  spare.  Her  heart  sank;  the  fever  of  her  excitement 
changed  suddenly  to  a  chill  as  she  faced  the  closed  door,  and 
asked  herself  the  question,  Dare  I  go  in  ? 

Her  own  hand  answered  her.  She  lifted  it  to  turn  the  han- 
dle of  the  lock.  It  dropped  again  helplessly  at  her  side. 

The  sense  of  her  own  irresolution  wrung  from  her  a  low 
exclamation  of  despair.  Faint  as  it  was,  it  had  apparently 
not  passed  unheard.  The  door  was  opened  from  within — 
and  Horace  stood  before  her. 

He  drew  aside  to  let  her  pass  into  the  room.  But  he  never 
followed  her  in.  He  stood  in  the  door-way,  and  spoke  to  her, 
keeping  the  door  open  with  his  hand. 

"  Do  you  mind  waiting  here  for  me  ?"  he  asked. 

She  looked  at  him,  in  vacant  surprise,  doubting  whether  she 
had  heard  him  aright. 

"  It  will  not  be  for  long,"  he  went  on.  "  I  am  far  too  anx- 
ious to  hear  what  you  have  to  tell  me  to  submit  to  any  need- 
less delays.  The  truth  is,  I  have  had  a  message  from  Lady 
Janet." 

(From  Lady  Janet !  What  could  Lady  Janet  want  with 
him,  at  a  time  when  she  was  bent  on  composing  herself  in  the 
retirement  of  her  own  room  ?) 

"I  ought  to  have  said  two  messages,"  Horace  proceeded. 
"The  first  was  given  to  me  on  my  way  down  stairs.  Lady 
Janet  wished  to  see  me  immediately.  I  sent  an  excuse.  A 
second  message  followed.  Lady  Janet  would  accept  no  ex- 
cuse. If  I  refused  to  go  to  her  I  should  be  merely  obliging 
her  to  come  to  me.  It  is  impossible  to  risk  being  interrupted 
in  that  way;  my  only  alternative  is  to  get  the  thing  over  as 
soon  as  possible.  Do  you  mind  waiting  ?" 

"  Certainly  not.  Have  you  any  idea  of  what  Lady  Janet 
wants  with  you  ?" 

"No.  Whatever  it  is,  she  shall  not  keep  me  long  away 
from  you.  You  will  be  quite  alone  here ;  I  have  warned  the 


A   MAN   WAS    OBSCURELY   VISIBLE,    SEATED    ON   THE    SOFA. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  215 

servants  not  to  show  any  one  in."     With  those  words  he 
left  her. 

Mercy's  first  sensation  was  a  sensation  of  relief— soon  lost 
in  a  feeling  of  shame  at  the  weakness  which  could  welcome 
any  temporary  relief  in  such  a  position  as  hers.  The  emotion 
thus  roused  merged,  in  its  turn,  into  a  sense  of  impatient  re- 
gret. "  But  for  Lady  Janet's  message,"  she  thought  to  her- 
self, "  I  might  have  known  my  fate  by  this  time !" 

The  slow  minutes  followed  each  other  drearily.  She  paced 
to  and  fro  in  the  library,  faster  and  faster,  under  the  intoler- 
able irritation,  the  maddening  uncertainty,  of  her  own  sus- 
pense. Ere  long,  even  the  spacious  room  seemed  to  be  too 
small  for  her.  The  sober  monotony  of  the  long  book-lined 
shelves  oppressed  and  offended  her.  She  threw  open  the  door 
which  led  into  the  dining-room,  and  dashed  in,  eager  for  a 
change  of  objects,  athirst  for  more  space  and  more  air. 

At  the  first  step  she  checked  herself;  rooted  to  the  spot, 
under  a  sudden  revulsion  of  feeling  which  quieted  her  in  an 
instant. 

The  room  was  only  illuminated  by  the  waning  fire  light. 
A  man  was  obscurely  visible,  seated  on  the  sofa,  with  his  el- 
bows on  his  knees  and  his  head  resting  on  his  hands.  He 
looked  up  as  the  open  door  let  in  the  light  from  the  library 
lamps.  The  mellow  glow  reached  his  face  and  revealed  Ju- 
lian Gray. 

Mercy  was  standing  with  her  back  to  the  light;  her  face 
being  necessarily  hidden  in  deep  shadow.  He  recognized  her 
by  her  figure,  and  by  the  attitude  into  which  it  unconscious- 
ly fell.  That  unsought  grace,  that  lithe  long  beauty  of  line, 
belonged  to  but  one  woman  in  the  house.  He  rose,  and  ap- 
proached her. 

"I  have  been  wishing  to  see  you,"  he  said,  "and  hoping 
that  accident  might  bring  about  some  such  meeting  as  this." 

He  offered  her  a  chair.  Mercy  hesitated  before  she  took 
her  seat.  This  was  their  first  meeting  alone  since  Lady  Jam  t 


216  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

had  interrupted  her  at  the  moment  when  she  was  about  to 
confide  to  Julian  the  melancholy  story  of  the  past.  Was  he 
anxious  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  returning  to  her  confes- 
sion? The  terms  in  which  he  had  addressed  her  seemed  to 
imply  it.  She  put  the  question  to  him  in  plain  words. 

"I  feel  the  deepest  interest  in  hearing  all  that  you  have 
still  to  confide  to  me,"  he  answered.  "  But  anxious  as  I  may 
be,  I  will  not  hurry  you.  I  will  wait,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  own  that  I  do  wish,  it,"  Mercy  re- 
joined. "  Not  on  my  account — but  because  my  time  is  at  the 
disposal  of  Horace  Holmcroft.  I  expect  to  see  him  in  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Could  you  give  me  those  few  minutes  ?"  Julian  asked. 
"I  have  something  on  my  side  to  say  to  you  which  I  think 
you  ought  to  know  before  you  see  any  one — Horace  himself 
included." 

He  spoke  with  a  certain  depression  of  tone  which  was  not 
associated  with  her  previous  experience  of  him.  His  face 
looked  prematurely  old  and  care-worn  in  the  red  light  of  the 
fire.  Something  had  plainly  happened  to  sadden  and  to  dis- 
appoint him  since  they  had  last  met. 

"  I  willingly  offer  you  all  the  time  that  I  have  at  my  own 
command,"  Mercy  replied.  "  Does  what  you  have  to  tell  me 
relate  to  Lady  Janet  ?" 

He  gave  her  no  direct  reply.  "  What  I  have  to  tell  you  of 
Lady  Janet,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  is  soon  told.  So  far  as  she 
is  concerned  you  have  nothing  more  to  dread.  Lady  Janet 
knows  all." 

Even  the  heavy  weight  of  oppression  caused  by  the  im- 
pending interview  with  Horace  failed  to  hold  its  place  in 
Mercy's  mind  when  Julian  answered  her  in  those  words. 

"  Come  into  the  lighted  room,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  It  is  too 
terrible  to  hear  you  say  that  in  the  dark." 

Julian  followed  her  into  the  library.  Her  limbs  trembled 
under  her.  She  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  shrank  under  his 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  217 

great  bright  eyes,  as  he  stood  by  her  side  looking  sadly  down 
on  her. 

"  Lady  Janet  knows  all !"  she  repeated,  with  her  head  on 
her  breast,  and  the  tears  falling  slowly  over  her  cheeks.  Have 
you  told  her  ?" 

"I  have  said  nothing  to  Lady  Janet  or  to  any  one.  Your 
confidence  is  a  sacred  confidence  to  me,  until  you  have  spoken 
first." 

"  Has  Lady  Janet  said  any  thing  to  you?" 

"  Not  a  word.  She  has  looked  at  you  with  the  vigilant 
eyes  of  love ;  she  has  listened  to  you  with  the  quick  hearing 
of  love — and  she  has  found  her  own  way  to  the  truth.  She 
will  not  speak  of  it  to  me — she  will  not  speak  of  it  to  any 
living  creature.  I  only  know  now  how  dearly  she  loved  you. 
In  spite  of  herself  she  clings  to  you  still.  Her  life,  poor  soul, 
has  been  a  barren  one;  unworthy,  miserably  unworthy,  of 
such  a  nature  as  hers.  Her  marriage  was  loveless  and  child- 
less. She  has  had  admirers,  but  never,  in  the  higher  sense 
of  the  word,  a  friend.  All  the  best  years  of  her  life  have 
been  wasted  in  the  unsatisfied  longing  for  something  to  love. 
At  the  end  of  her  life  You  have  filled  the  void.  Her  heart 
has  found  its  youth  again,  through  You.  At  her  age — at  any 
age — is  such  a  tie  as  this  to  be  rudely  broken  at  the  mere  bid- 
ding of  circumstances  ?  No!  She  will  suffer  any  thing, risk 
any  thing,  forgive  any  thing,  rather  than  own,  even  to  herself, 
that  she  has  been  deceived  in  you.  There  is  more  than  her 
happiness  at  stake  ;  there  is  pride,  a  noble  pride,  in  such  love 
as  hers,  which  will  ignore  the  plainest  discovery  and  deny  the 
most  unanswerable  truth.  I  am  firmly  convinced — from  my 
own  knowledge  of  her  character,  and  from  what  I  have  ob- 
served in  her  to-day — that  she  will  find  some  excuse  for  re- 
fusing to  hear  your  confession.  And  more  than  that,  I  be- 
lieve (if  the  exertion  of  her  influence  can  do  it)  that  she  will 
leave  no  means  untried  of  preventing  you  from  acknowledg- 
ing your  true  position  here  to  any  living  creature.  I  take  a 

JO* 


218  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

serious  responsibility  on  myself  in  telling  you  this — and  T 
don't  shrink  from  it.  You  ought  to  know,  and  you  shall 
know,  what  trials  and  what  temptations  may  yet  lie  before 

you." 

He  paused — leaving  Mercy  time  to  compose  herself,  if  she 
wished  to  speak  to  him. 

She  felt  that  there  was  a  necessity  for  her  speaking  to  him. 
He  was  plainly  not  aware  that  Lady  Janet  had  already  writ- 
ten to  her  to  defer  her  promised  explanation.  This  circum- 
stance was  in  itself  a  confirmation  of  the  opinion  which  he 
had  expressed.  She  ought  to  mention  it  to  him  ;  she  tried  to 
mention  it  to  him.  But  she  was  not  equal  to  the  effort.  The 
few  simple  words  in  which  he  had  touched  on  the  tie  that 
bound  Lady  Janet  to  her  had  wrung  her  heai't.  Her  tears 
choked  her.  She  could  only  sign  to  him  to  go  on. 

"You  may  wonder  at  my  speaking  so  positively,"  he  con- 
tinued, "with  nothing  better  than  my  own  conviction  to  jus- 
tify me.  I  can  only  say  that  I  have  watched  Lady  Janet  too 
closely  to  feel  any  doubt.  I  saw  the  moment  in  which  the 
truth  flashed  on  her,  as  plainly  as  I  now  see  you.  It  did  not 
disclose  itself  gradually — it  burst  on  her,  as  it  burst  on  me. 
She  suspected  nothing — she  was  frankly  indignant  at  your 
sudden  interference  and  your  strange  language  —  until  the 
time  came  in  which  you  pledged  yourself  to  produce  Mercy 
Merrick.  Then  (and  then  only)  the  truth  broke  on  her  mind, 
trebly  revealed  to  her  in  your  words,  your  voice,  and  your 
look.  Then  (and  then  only)  I  saw  a  marked  change  come 
over  her,  and  remain  in  her  while  she  remained  in  the  room. 
I  dread  to  think  of  what  she  may  do  in  the  first  reckless  de- 
spair of  the  discovery  that  she  has  made.  I  distrust — though 
God  knows  I  am  not  naturally  a  suspicious  man — the  most 
apparently  trifling  events  that  are  now  taking  place  about 
us.  You  have  held  nobly  to  your  resolution  to  own  the  truth. 
Prepare  yourself,  before  the  evening  is  over,  to  be  tried  and 
tempted  again." 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  219 

Mercy  lifted  her  head.  Fear  took  the  place  of  grief  iu  her 
eyes,  as  they  rested  in  startled  inquiry  on  Julian's  face. 

"  How  is  it  possible  that  temptation  can  come  to  me  now  ?" 
she  asked. 

"  I  will  leave  it  to  events  to  answer  that  question,"  he  said. 
"  You  will  not  have  long  to  wait.  In  the  mean  time  I  have 
put  you  on  your  guard."  He  stooped,  and  spoke  his  next 
words  earnestly,  close  at  her  ear.  "  Hold  fast  by  the  admi- 
rable courage  which  you  have  shown  thus  far,"  he  went  on. 
"  Suffer  any  thing  rather  than  suffer  the  degradation  of  your- 
self. Be  the  woman  whom  I  once  spoke  of — the  woman  I 
still  have  in  my  mind — who  can  nobly  reveal  the  noble  nature 
that  is  in  her.  And  never  forget  this — my  faith  in  you  is  as 
firm  as  ever!" 

She  looked  at  him  proudly  and  gratefully. 

"I  ara  pledged  to  justify  your  faith  in  me," she  said.  "I 
have  put  it  out  of  my  own  power  to  yield.  Horace  lias  my 
promise  that  I  will  explain  every  thing  to  him,  in  this  room.'' 

Julian  started. 

"  Has  Horace  himself  asked  it  of  you  ?"  he  inquired.  "//<?, 
at  least,  has  no  suspicion  of  the  truth." 

"  Horace  has  appealed  to  my  duty  to  him  as  his  betrothed 
wife,"  she  answered.  "  He  has  the  first  claim  to  my  confi- 
dence— he  resents  my  silence,  and  he  has  a  right  to  resent  it. 
Terrible  as  it  will  be  to  open  his  eyes  to  the  truth,  I  must  do 
it  if  he  asks  me." 

She  was  looking  at  Julian  while  she  spoke.  The  old  long- 
ing to  associate  with  the  hard  trial  of  the  confession  the  one 
man  who  had  felt  for  her,  and  believed  in  her,  revived  under 
another  form.  If  she  could  only  know,  while  she  was  saying 
the  fatal  words  to  Horace,  that  Julian  was  listening  too,  she 
would  be  encouraged  to  i  eet  the  worst  that  could  happen! 
As  the  idea  crossed  her  mind,  she  observed  that  Julian  was 
looking  toward  the  door  through  which  they  had  lately  pass- 
ed. In  an  instant  she  saw  the  means  to  her  end.  Hardly 


220  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

waiting  to  hear  the  few  kind  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
approval  which  he  addressed  to  her,  she  hinted  timidly  at  the 
proposal  which  she  had  now  to  make  to  him. 

"Arc  you  going  back  into  the  next  room  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Not  if  you  object  to  it,"  he  replied. 

"I  don't  object.     I  want  you  to  be  there." 

"After  Horace  has  joined  you?" 

"Yes.     After  Horace  has  joined  me." 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  me  when  it  is  over  ?" 

She  summoned  her  resolution,  and  told  him  frankly  what 
she  had  in  her  mind. 

"  I  want  you  to  be  near  me  while  I  am  speaking  to  Hor- 
ace," she  said.  "  It  will  give  me  courage  if  I  can  feel  that  I 
am  speaking  to  you  as  well  as  to  him.  I  can  count  on  your 
sympathy — and  sympathy  is  so  precious  to  me  now !  Am  I 
asking  too  much,  if  I  ask  you  to  leave  the  door  unclosed 
when  you  go  bnck  to  the  dining-room  ?  Think  of  the  dread- 
ful trial — to  him  as  well  as  to  me  !  I  am  only  a  woman ;  I 
am  afraid  I  may  sink  under  it,  if  I  have  no  friend  near  me. 
And  I  have  no  friend  but  you." 

In  those  simple  words  she  tried  her  powers  of  persuasion 
on  him  for  the  first  time. 

Between  perplexity  and  distress  Julian  was,  for  the  mo- 
ment, at  a  loss  how  to  answer  her.  The  love  for  Mercy 
which  he  dared  not  acknowledge  was  as  vital  a  feeling  in  him 

O  O 

as  the  faith  in  her  which  he  had  been  free  to  avow.  To  re- 
fuse any  thing  that  she  asked  of  him  in  her  sore  need — and, 
more  even  than  that,  to  refuse  to  hear  the  confession  which  it 
had  been  her  first  impulse  to  make  to  him — these  were  cruel 
sacrifices  to  his  sense  of  what  was  due  to  Horace  and  of  what 
was  clue  to  himself.  But  shrink  as  he  might,  even  from  the 
appearance  of  deserting  her,  it  was  impossible  for  him  (ex- 
cept under  a  reserve  which  was  almost  equivalent  to  a  denial) 
to  grant  her  request. 

"All  that  I  can  do  I  will  do,"  he  said.     "The  doors  shall 


THE    NEW   MAGDALENV  221 

be  left  unclosed,  and  I  will  remain  in  the  next  room,  on  this 
condition,  that  Horace  knows  of  it  as  well  as  you.  I  should 
be  unworthy  of  your  confidence  in  me  if  I  consented  to  be  a 
listener  on  any  other  terms.  You  understand  that,  I  am  sure, 
as  well  as  I  do." 

She  had  never  thought  of  her  proposal  to  him  in  this  light. 
Woman-like,  she  had  thought  of  nothing  but  the  comfort  of 
having  him  near  her.  She  understood  him  now.  A  faint 
flush  of  shame  rose  on  her  pale  cheeks  as  she  thanked  him. 
He  delicately  relieved  her  from  her  embarrassment  by  putting 
a  question  which  naturally  occurred  under  the  circumstances. 

"  Where  is  Horace  all  this  time  ?"  he  asked.  "  Why  is  he 
not  here  ?" 

"  He  has  been  called  away,"  she  answered, "  by  a  message 
from  Lady  Janet." 

The  reply  more  than  astonished  Julian  ;  it  seemed  almost 
to  alarm  him.  He  returned  to  Mercy's  chair ;  he  said  to  her, 
eagerly,  "Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Horace  himself  told  me  that  Lady  Janet  had  insisted  on 
seeing  him." 

"  When  ?" 

"Not  long  ago.  He  asked  me  to  wait  for  him  here  while 
he  went  up  stairs." 

Julian's  face  darkened  ominously. 

"This  confirms  my  worst  fears,"  he  said.  "Have  yon  had 
any  communication  with  Lady  Janet  ?" 

Mercy  replied  by  showing  him  his  aunt's  note.  He  read  it 
carefully  through. 

"  Did  I  not  tell  you,"  he  said,  "  that  she  would  find  some 
excuse  for  refusing  to  hear  your  confession  ?  She  begins  by 
delaying  it,  simply  to  gain  time  for  something  else  which  she 
has  it  in  her  mind  to  do.  When  did  you  receive  this  note? 
Soon  after  you  went  up  stairs  ?" 

"About  a  quarter  of  an  hour  after,  as  well  as  I  can  guess." 

u  Do  you  know  what  happened  down  here  after  you  left  uf»?" 


222  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Horace  told  me  that  Lady  Janet  had  offered  Miss  Rose- 
berry  the  use  of  her  boudoir." 

"Anymore?" 

"He  said  that  you  had  shown  her  the  way  to  the  room." 

"Did  he  tell  you  what  happened  after  that?" 

"No." 

"  Then  I  must  tell  you.  If  I  can  do  nothing  more  in  this 
serious  state  of  things,  I  can  at  least  prevent  your  being  taken 
by  surprise.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  right  you  should  know 
that  I  had  a  motive  for  accompanying  Miss  Roseberry  to  the 
boudoir.  I  was  anxious  (for  your  sake)  to  make  some  appeal 
to  her  better  self — if  she  had  any  better  self  to  address.  I 
own  I  had  doubts  of  my  success — judging  by  what  I  had  al- 
ready seen  of  her.  My  doubts  were  confirmed.  In  the  ordi- 
nary intercourse  of  life  I  should  merely  have  thought  her  a 
commonplace,  uninteresting  woman.  Seeing  her  as  I  saw  her 
while  we  were  alone — in  other  words,  penetrating  below  the 
surface  —  I  have  never,  in  all  my  sad  experience,  met  with 
such  a  hopelessly  narrow,  mean,  and  low  nature  as  hers.  Un- 
derstanding, as  she  could  not  fail  to  do,  what  the  sudden 
change  in  Lady  Janet's  behavior  toward  her  really  meant,  her 
one  idea  was  to  take  the  cruelest  possible  advantage  of  it.  So 
far  from  feeling  any  consideration  for  you,  she  was  only  ad- 
ditionally imbittered  toward  you.  She  protested  against 
your  being  permitted  to  claim  the  merit  of  placing  her  in  her 
right  position  here  by  your  own  voluntary  avowal  of  the  truth. 
She  insisted  on  publicly  denouncing  you,  and  on  forcing  Lady 
Janet  to  dismiss  you,  unheard,  before  the  whole  household ! 
'  Now  I  can  have  my  revenge  !  At  last  Lady  Janet  is  afraid 
of  me  !'  Those  were  her  own  words — I  am  almost  ashamed 
to  repeat  them — those,  on  my  honor,  were  her  own  words  ! 
Every  possible  humiliation  to  be  heaped  on  you ;  no  consid- 
eration to  be  shown  for  Lady  Janet's  age  and  Lady  Janet's 
position  ;  nothing,  absolutely  nothing,  to  be  allowed  to  inter- 
fere with  Miss  Roseberry's  vengeance  and  Miss  Roseberry's 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  223 

triumph  !  There  is  this  woman's  shameless  view  of  what  is 
due  to  her,  as  stated  by  herself  in  the  plainest  terms.  I 
kept  my  temper  ;  I  did  all  I  could  to  bring  her  to  a  better 
frame  of  mind.  I  might  as  well  have  pleaded — I  won't  say 
with  a  savage ;  savages  are  sometimes  accessible  to  remon- 
strance, if  you  know  how  to  reach  them — I  might  as  well 
have  pleaded  with  a  hungry  animal  to  abstain  from  eating 
while  food  was  within  its  reach.  I  had  just  given  up  the 
hopeless  effort  in  disgust,  when  Lady  Janet's  maid  appeared 
with  a  message  for  Miss  Roseberry  from  her  mistress  :  '  My 
lady's  compliments,  ma'am,  and  she  will  be  glad  to  see  you 
at  your  earliest  convenience,  in  her  room.'  " 

Another  surprise !  Grace  Roseberry  invited  to  an  inter- 
view with  Lady  Janet !  It  would  have  been  impossible  to 
believe  it,  if  Julian  had  not  heard  the  invitation  given  with 
his  own  ears. 

"  She  instantly  rose,"  Julian  proceeded.  " '  I  won't  keep 
her  ladyship  waiting  a  moment,'  she  said  ;  '  show  me  the  way.' 
She  signed  to  the  maid  to  go  out  of  the  room  first,  and  then 
turned  round  and  spoke  to  me  from  the  door.  I  despair  of 
describing  the  insolent  exultation  of  her  manner.  I  can  only 
repeat  her  words:  'This  is  exactly  what  I  wanted!  I  had 
intended  to  insist  on  seeing  Lady  Janet :  she  saves  me  the 
trouble.  I  am  infinitely  obliged  to  her.'  With  that  she 
nodded  to  me,  and  closed  the  door.  I  have  not  seen  her,  I 
have  not  heard  of  her,  since.  For  all  I  know,  she  may  be  still 
with  my  aunt,  and  Horace  may  have  found  her  there  when 
he  entered  the  room." 

"  What  can  Lady  Janet  have  to  say  to  her  ?"  Mercy  asked, 
eagerly. 

"  It  is  impossible  even  to  guess.  When  you  found  me  in 
the  dining-room  I  was  considering  that  very  question.  I  can 
not  imagine  that  any  neutral  ground  can  exist  on  which  it  is 
possible  for  Lady  Janet  and  this  woman  to  meet.  In  her 
present  frame  of  mind  she  will  in  all  probability  insult  Lady 


224  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Janet  before  she  has  been  five  minutes  in  the  room.  I  own  I 
am  completely  puzzled.  The  one  conclusion  I  can  arrive  at  is 
that  the  note  which  my  aunt  sent  to  you,  the  private  inter- 
view with  Miss  Roseberry  which  has  followed,  and  the  sum- 
mons to  Horace  which  has  succeeded  in  its  turn,  are  all  links 
in  the  same  chain  of  events,  and  are  all  tending  to  that  renew- 
ed temptation  against  which  I  have  already  warned  you." 

Mercy  held  up  her  hand  for  silence.  She  looked  toward  the 
door  that  opened  on  the  hall ;  had  she  heard  a  footstep  out- 
side ?  No.  All  was  still.  Not  a  sign  yet  of  Horace's  return. 

"  Oh !"  she  exclaimed,  "  what  would  I  not  give  to  know 
what  is  going  on  up  stairs  !" 

"  You  will  soon  know  it  now,"  said  Julian.  "  It  is  impos- 
sible that  our  present  uncertainty  can  last  much  longer." 

He  turned  away,  intending  to  go  back  to  the  room  in  which 
she  had  found  him.  Looking  at  her  situation  from  a  man's 
point  of  view,  he  naturally  assumed  that  the  best  service  he 
could  now  render  to  Mercy  would  be  to  leave  her  to  prepare 
herself  for  the  interview  with  Horace.  Before  he  had  taken 
three  steps  away  from  her  she  showed  him  the  difference  be- 
tween the  woman's  point  of  view  and  the  man's.  The  idea 
of  considering  beforehand  what  she  should  say  never  entered 
her  mind.  In  her  horror  of  being  left  by  herself  at  that  crit- 
ical moment,  she  forgot  every  other  consideration.  Even  the 
warning  remembrance  of  Horace's  jealous  distrust  of  Julian 
passed  away  from  her,  for  the  moment,  as  completely  as  if  it 
never  had  a  place  in  her  memory.  "  Don't  leave  me !  '  she 
cried.  "  I  can't  wait  here  alone.  Come  back— come  back  !" 

She  rose  impulsively  while  she  spoke,  as  if  to  follow  him 
into  the  dining-room,  if  he  persisted  in  leaving  her. 

A  momentary  expression  of  doubt  crossed  Julian's  face  as 
he  retraced  his  steps  and  signed  to  her  to  be  seated  again. 
Could  she  be  depended  on  (he  asked  himself)  to  sustain  the 
coming  test  'of  her  resolution,  when  she  had  not  courage 
enough  to  wait  for  events  in  a  room  by  herself  ?  Julian  had 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  225 

yet  to  learn  that  a  woman's  courage  rises  with  the  greatness 
of  the  emergency.  Ask  her  to  accompany  you  through  a 
field  in  which  some  harmless  cattle  happen  to  be  grazing,  and 
it  is  doubtful,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  if  she  will  do  it.  Ask 
her,  as  one  of  the  passengers  in  a  ship  on  fire,  to  help  in  set- 
ting an  example  of  composure  to  the  rest,  and  it  is  certain,  in 
nine  cases  out  of  ten,  that  she  will  do  it.  As  soon  as  Julian 
had  taken  a  chair  near  her,  Mercy  was  calm  again. 

"Are  you  sure  of  your  resolution  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,"  she  answered,  "  as  long  as  you  don't 
leave  me  by  myself." 

The  talk  between  them  dropped  there.  They  sat  together 
in  silence,  with  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  door,  waiting  for  Hor- 
ace to  come  in. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  few  minutes  their  attention  was  at- 
tracted by  a  sound  outside  in  the  grounds.  A  carriage  of 
some  sort  was  plainly  audible  approaching  the  house. 

The  carnage  stopped ;  the  bell  rang ;  the  front-door  was 
opened.  Had  a  visitor  arrived?  No  voice  could  be  heard 
making  inquiries.  No  footsteps  but  the  servant's  footsteps 
crossed  the  hall.  A  long  pause  followed,  the  carriage  remain- 
ing at  the  door.  Instead  of  bringing  some  one  to  the  house, 
it  had  apparently  arrived  to  take  some  one  away. 

The  next  event  was  the  return  of  the  servant  to  the  front- 
door. They  listened  again.  Again  no  second  footstep  was 
audible.  The  door  was  closed ;  the  servant  recrossed  the 
hall ;  the  carriage  was  driven  away.  Judging  by  sounds 
alone,  no  one  had  arrived  at  the  house,  and  no  one  had  left 
ihe  house. 

Julian  looked  at  Mercy.  "  Do  you  understand  this  ?"  he 
asked. 

She  silently  shook  her  head. 

"  If  any  person  has  gone  away  in  the  carriage,"  Julian  went 
on, "  that  person  can  hardly  have  been  a  man,  or  we  must  have 
heard  him  in  the  hall." 


226  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

The  conclusion  which  her  companion  had  just  drawn  from 
the  noiseless  departure  of  the  supposed  visitor  raised  a  sud- 
den doubt  in  Mercy's  mind. 

"  Go  and  inquire  !"  she  said,  eagerly. 

Julian  left  the  room,  and  returned  again,  after  a  brief  ab- 
sence, with  signs  of  grave  anxiety  in  his  face  and  manner. 

"I  told  you  I  dreaded  the  most  trifling  events  that  were 
passing  about  us,"  he  said.  "An  event,  which  is  far  from  be- 
ing trifling,  has  just  happened.  The  carriage  which  we  heard 
approaching  along  the  drive  turns  out  to  have  been  a  cab 
sent  for  from  the  house.  The* person  who  has  gone  away  in 
it—" 

"  Is  a  woman,  as  you  supposed  ?" 

"Yes." 

Mercy  rose  excitedly  from  her  chair. 

"  It  can't  be  Grace  Roseberry  ?"  she  exclaimed. 

"  It  is  Grace  Roseberry." 

"  Has  she  gone  away  alone  ?" 

"Alone— after  an  interview  with  Lady  Janet." 

"  Did  she  go  willingly  ?" 

"  She  herself  sent  the  servant  for  the  cab." 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  It  is  useless  to  inquire.     We  shall  soon  know." 

They  resumed  their  seats,  waiting,  as  they  had  waited  al- 
ready, with  their  eyes  on  the  library  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

LADY    JANET    AT    BAY. 

THE  narrative  leaves  Julian  and  Mercy  for  a  while,  and,  as- 
cending to  the  upper  regions  of  the  house,  follows  the  march 
of  events  in  Lady  Janet's  room. 

The  maid  had  delivered  her  mistress's  note  to  Mercy,  and 
had  gone  away  again  on  her  second  errand  to  Grace  Roseber- 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  227 

ry  in  her  boudoir.  Lady  Janet  was  seated  at  her  writing-ta- 
ble, waiting  for  the  appearance  of  the  woman  whom  she  had 
summoned  to  her  presence.  A  single  lamp  diffused  its  mild 
light  over  the  books,  pictures,  and  busts  round  her,  leaving 
the  farther  end  of  the  room,  in  which  the  bed  was  placed,  al- 
most lost  in  obscurity.  The  works  of  art  were  all  portraits ; 
the  books  were  all  presentation  copies  from  the  authors.  It 
was  Lady  Janet's  fancy  to  associate  her  bedroom  with  me- 
morials of  the  various  persons  whom  she  had  known  in  the 
long  course  of  her  life — all  of  them  more  or  less  distinguished, 
most  of  them,  by  this  time,  gathered  with  the  dead. 

She  sat  near  her  writing-table,  lying  back  in  her  easy-chair 
— the  living  realization  of  the  picture  which  Julian's  descrip- 
tion hud  drawn.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  on  a  photographic  like- 
ness of  Mercy,  which  was  so  raised  upon  a  little  gilt  easel 
as  lo  enable  her  to  contemplate  it  under  the  full  light  of  the 
lump.  The  bright,  mobile  old  face  was  strangely  and  sadly 
changed.  The  brow  was  fixed ;  the  mouth  was  rigid ;  the 
whole  face  would  have  been  like  a  mask,  molded  in  the  hard- 
est forms  of  passive  resistance  and  suppressed  rage,  but  for 
the  light  and  life  still  thrown  over  it  by  the  eyes.  There  was 
something  unutterably  touching  in  the  keen  hungering  ten- 
derness of  the  look  which  they  fixed  on  the  portrait,  inteiisi- 
lied  by  an  underlying  expression  of  fond  and  patient  reproach. 
The  danger  which  Julian  so  wisely  dreaded  was  in  the  rest  of 
the  face ;  the  love  which  he  had  so  truly  described  was  in  the 
eyes  alone.  They  still  spoke  of  the  cruelly  profaned  affection 
which  had  been  the  one  immeasurable  joy,  the  one  inexliuust 
ible  hope  of  Lady  Janet's  closing  life.  The  brow  exp:> 
nothing  but  her  obstinate  determination  to  stand  by  the  wreck 
of  that  joy,  to  rekindle  the  dead  ashes  of  that  hope.  The  lips 
were  only  eloquent  of  her  unflinching  resolution  to  ignore  the 
hateful  present  and  to  save  the  sacred  past.  "My  idol  may 
be  shattered,  but  none  of  you  shall  know  it.  I  stop  tin- 
march  of  discovery;  I  extinguish  the  light  of  truth.  I  am 


228  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

deaf  to  your  words ;  I  am  blind  to  your  proofs.     At  seventy 
years  old,  my  idol  is  my  life.     It  shall  be  my  idol  still." 

The  silence  in  the  bedroom  was  broken  by  a  murmuring  of 
women's  voices  outside  the  door. 

Lady  Janet  instantly  raised  herself  in  the  chair,  and 
snatched  the  photograph  off  the  easel.  She  laid  the  portrait 
face  downward  among  some  papers  on  the  table,  then  abrupt- 
ly changed  her  mind,  and  hid  it  among  the  thick  folds  of  lace 
which  clothed  her  neck  and  bosom.  There  was  a  world  of 
love  in  the  action  itself,  and  in  the  sudden  softening  of  the 
eyes  which  accompanied  it.  The  next  moment  Lady  Janet's 
mask  was  on.  Any  superficial  observer  who  had  seen  her 
now  would  have  said, "  This  is  a  hard  woman  !" 

The  door  was  opened  by  the  maid.  Grace  Roseberry  en- 
tered the  room. 

She  advanced  rapidly,  with  a  defiant  assurance  in  her  man- 
ner, and  a  lofty  carriage  of  her  head.  She  sat  down  in  the 
chair,  to  which  Lady  Janet  silently  pointed,  with  a  thump ; 
she  returned  Lady  Janet's  grave  bow  with  a  nod  and  a  smile. 
Every  movement  and  every  look  of  the  little,  worn,  white- 
faced,  shabbily  dressed  woman  expressed  insolent  triumph, 
and  said,  as  if  in  words,  "  My  turn  has  come  !" 

"  I  am  glad  to  wait  on  your  ladyship,"  she  began,  without 
giving  Lady  Janet  an  opportunity  of  speaking  first.  "  In- 
deed, I  should  have  felt  it  my  duty  to  request  an  interview, 
if  you  had  not  sent  your  maid  to  invite  me  up  here." 

"  You  would  have  felt  it  your  duty  to  request  an  inter- 
view ?"  Lady  Janet  repeated,  very  quietly.  "  Why  ?" 

The  tone  in  which  that  one  last  word  was  spoken  embar- 
rassed Grace  at  the  outset.  It  established  as  great  a  dis- 
tance between  Lady  Janet  and  herself  as  if  she  had  been 
lifted  in  her  chair  and  conveyed  bodily  to  the  other  end  of 
the  room. 

"  I  am  surprised  that  your  ladyship  should  not  understand 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  229 

me,"  she  said,  struggling  to  conceal  her  confusion.  "  Espe- 
cially after  your  kind  offer  of  your  own  boudoir." 

Lady  Janet  remained  perfectly  unmoved.  "I  do  not  un- 
derstand you,"  she  answered,  just  as  quietly  as  ever. 

Grace's  temper  came  to  her  assistance.  She  recovered  the 
assurance  which  had  marked  her  first  appearance  on  the  scene. 

"  In  that  case,"  she  resumed, "  I  must  enter  into  particulars, 
in  justice  to  myself.  I  can  place  but  one  interpretation  on 
the  extraordinary  change  in  your  ladyship's  behavior  to  me 
down  stairs.  The  conduct  of  that  abominable  woman  has  at 
last  opened  your  eyes  to  the  deception  that  has  been  prac- 
ticed on  you.  For  some  reason  of  your  own,  however,  you 
have  not  yet  chosen  to  recognize  me  openly.  In  this  painful 
position  something  is  due  to  my  own  self-respect.  I  can  not, 
and  will  not,  permit  Mercy  Merrick  to  claim  the  merit  of  re- 
storing me  to  my  proper  place  in  this  house.  After  what  I 
have  suffered  it  is  quite  impossible  for  me  to  endure  that.  I 
should  have  requested  an  interview  (if  you  had  not  sent  for 
me)  for  the  express  purpose  of  claiming  this  person's  imme- 
diate expulsion  from  the  house.  I  claim  it  now  as  a  proper 
concession  to  Me.  Whatever  you  or  Mr.  Julian  Gray  may 
do,  I  will  not  tamely  permit  her  to  exhibit  herself  as  an  in- 
teresting penitent.  It  is  really  a  little  too  much  to  hear  this 
brazen  adventuress  appoint  her  own  time  for  explaining  her- 
self. It  is  too  deliberately  insulting  to  see  her  sail  out  of  the 
room — with  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England  opening 
the  door  for  her — as  if  she  was  laying  me  under  an  obliga- 
tion !  I  can  forgive  much,  Lady  Janet, — including  the  terms 
in  which  you  thought  it  decent  to  order  me  out  of  your  house. 
I  am  quite  willing  to  accept  the  offer  of  your  boudoir,  as  the 
expression  on  your  part  of  a  better  frame  of  mind.  But  even 
Chi-istian  Chanty  has  its  limits.  The  continued  presence  of 
that  wretch  under  your  roof  is,  you  will  permit  me  to  remark, 
not  only  a  monument  of  your  own  weakness,  but  a  perfectly 
insufferable  insult  to  Me." 


230  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

There  she  stopped  abruptly — not  for  want  of  words,  but 
for  want  of  a  listener. 

Lady  Janet  was  not  even  pretending  to  attend  to  her. 
Lady  Janet,  with  a  deliberate  rudeness  entirely  foreign  to  her 
usual  habits,  was  composedly  busying  herself  in  arranging 
the  various  papers  scattered  about  the  table.  Some  she  tied 
together  with  little  morsels  of  string;  some  she  placed  under 
paper-weights ;  some  she  deposited  in  the  fantastic  pigeon- 
holes of  a  little  Japanese  cabinet — working  with  a  placid  en- 
joyment of  her  own  orderly  occupation,  and  perfectly  una- 
ware, to  all  outward  appearance,  that  any  second  person  was 
in  the  room.  She  looked  up,  with  her  papers  in  both  hands, 
when  Grace  stopped,  and  said,  quietly, 

"  Have  you  done  ?" 

"Is  your  ladyship's  purpose  in  sending  for  me  to  treat  me 
with  studied  rudeness  ?"  Grace  retorted,  angrily. 

"  My  purpose  in  sending  for  you  is  to  say  something  as 
soon  as  you  will  allow  me  the  opportunity." 

The  impenetrable  composure  of  that  reply  took  Grace  com- 
pletely by  surprise.  She  had  no  retort  ready.  In  sheer  as- 
tonishment she  waited  silently  with  her  eyes  riveted  on  the 
mistress  of  the  house. 

Lady  Janet  put  down  her  papers,  and  settled  herself  com- 
fortably in  the  easy-chair,  preparatory  to  opening  the  inter- 
view on  her  side. 

"  The  little  that  I  have  to  say  to  you,"  she  began, "  may  be 
said  in  a  question.  Am  I  right  in  supposing  that  you  have 
no  present  employment,  and  that  a  little  advance  in  money 
(delicately  offered)  would  be  very  acceptable  to  you  ?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me, Lady  Janet?" 

"  Certainly  not.     I  mean  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  Your  question  is  an  insult." 

"  My  question  is  a  kindness,  if  you  will  only  understand  it 
as  it  is  intended.  I  don't  complain  of  your  not  understand- 
ing it.  I  don't  even  hold  you  responsible  for  any  one  of  the 


THE    XE\V    MAGDALEX.  231 

many  breaches  of  good  manners  which  you  have  committed 
since  you  have  been  in  this  room.  I  was  honestly  anxious  to 
be  of  some  service  to  you,  and  you  have  repelled  my  advances. 
T  am  sorry.  Let  us  drop  the  subject." 

Expressing  herself  in  the  most  perfect  temper  in  those 
terms,  Lady  Janet  resumed  the  arrangement  of  her  papers, 
and  became  unconscious  once  more  of  the  presence  of  any 
second  person  in  the  room. 

Grace  opened  her  lips  to  reply  with  the  utmost  intemper- 
ance of  an  angry  woman,  and  thinking  better  of  it,  controlled 
herself.  It  was  plainly  useless  to  take  the  violent  way  with 
Lady  Janet  Roy.  Her  age  and  her  social  position  were 
enough  of  themselves  to  repel  any  violence.  She  evidently 
knew  thai,  and  trusted  to  it.  Grace  resolved  to  meet  the  ene- 
my on  the  neutral  ground  of  politeness,  as  the  most  promising 
ground  that  she  could  occupy  under  present  circumstances. 

"If  I  have  said  any  thing  hasty,  I  beg  to  apologize  to  your 
ladyship,"  she  began.  "  May  I  ask  if  your  only  object  in 
sending  for  me  was  to  inquire  into  my  pecuniary  affairs,  with 
a  view  to  assisting  me  ?" 

"That,"  said  Lady  Janet,"  was  my  only  object." 

"You  had  nothing  to  say  to  me  on  the  subject  of  Mercy 
Merrick?" 

"Nothing  whatever.  I  am  weary  of  hearing  of  Mercy 
Merrick.  Have  you  any  more  questions  to  ask  me?" 

"  I  have  one  more." 

"Yes?" 

"  I  wish  to  ask  your  ladyship  whether  you  propose  to  rec- 
ognize me  in  the  presence  of  your  household  as  the  late  Col- 
onel Roseberry's  daughter  ?" 

"I  have  already  recognized  you  as  a  lady  in  embarrassed 
circumstances,  who  has  peculiar  claims  on  my  consideration 
and  forbearance.  If  you  wish  me  to  repent  those  words  in 
the  presence  of  the  servants  (absurd  as  it  is),  I  am  ready  to 
comply  with  your  request." 


232  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Grace's  temper  began  to  get  the  better  of  her  prudent  reso- 
lutions. 

"  Lady  Janet !"  she  said  ;  "  this  won't  do.  I  must  request 
you  to  express  yourself  plainly.  You  talk  of  my  peculiar 
claims  on  your  forbearance.  What  claims  do  you  mean  ?" 

"It  will  be  painful  to  both  of  us  if  we  enter  into  de- 
tails," replied  Lady  Janet.  "  Pray  don't  let  us  enter  into 
details." 

"  I  insist  on  it,  madam." 

"  Pray  don't  insist  on  it." 

Grace  was  deaf  to  remonstrance. 

"  I  ask  you  in  plain  words,"  she  went  on, "  do  you  acknowl- 
edge that  you  have  been  deceived  by  an  adventuress  who  has 
personated  me  ?  Do  you  mean  to  restore  me  to  my  proper 
place  in  this  house  ?" 

Lady  Janet  returned  to  the  arrangement  of  her  papers. 

"  Does  your  ladyship  refuse  to  listen  to  me  ?" 

Lady  Janet  looked  up  from  her  papers  as  blandly  as  ever. 

"If  you  persist  in  returning  to  your  delusion,"  she  said, 
"  you  will  oblige  me  to  persist  in  returning  to  my  papers." 

"  What  is  my  delusion, if  you  please?" 

"  Your  delusion  is  expressed  in  the  questions  you  have  just 
put  to  me.  Your  delusion  constitutes  your  peculiar  claim  on 
my  forbearance.  Nothing  you  can  say  or  do  will  shake  my 
forbearance.  When  I  first  found  you  in  the  dining-room,  I 
acted  most  improperly;  I  lost  my  temper.  I  did  worse;  I 
was  foolish  enough  and  imprudent  enough  to  send  for  a  po- 
lice officer.  I  owe  you  every  possible  atonement  (afflicted  as 
you  are)  for  treating  you  in  that  cruel  manner.  I  offered 
you  the  use  of  my  boudoir,  as  part  of  my  atonement.  I  sent 
for  you,  in  the  hope  that  you  would  allow  me  to  assist  you,  as 
part  of  my  atonement.  You  may  behave  rudely  to  me,  you 
may  speak  in  the  most  abusive  terms  of  my  adopted  daugh- 
ter ;  I  will  submit  to  any  thing,  as  part  of  my  atonement.  So 
long  as  you  abstain  from  spoaking  on  one  painful  subject,  I 


THE    XEW    MAGDALEN.  23.T 

will  listen  to  you  with  the  greatest  pleasure.     Whenever  you 
return  to  that  subject  I  shall  return  to  my  papers." 

Grace  looked  at  Lady  Janet  with  an  evil  smile. 

"I  begin  to  understand  your  ladyship,"  she  said.  "You 
are  ashamed  to  acknowledge  that  you  have  been  grossly  im- 
posed upon.  Your  only  alternative,  of  course,  is  to  ignore 
every  thing  that  has  happened.  Pray  count  on  my  forbear- 
ance. I  am  not  at  all  offended — I  am  merely  amused.  It  is 
not  every  day  that  a  lady  of  high  rank  exhibits  herself  in 
such  a  position  as  yours  to  an  obscure  woman  like  me.  Your 
humane  consideration  for  me  dates,  I  presume,  from  the  time 
when  your  adopted  daughter  set  you  the  example,  by  order- 
ing the  police  officer  out  of  the  room  ?" 

Lady  Janet's  composure  was  proof  even  aga'mst  this  as- 
sault on  it.  She  gravely  accepted  Grace's  inquiry  as  a  ques- 
tion "addressed  to  her  in  perfect  good  faith. 

"I  am  not  at  all  surpiised,"  she  replied,  "to  find  that  my 
adopted  daughter's  interference  has  exposed  her  to  misrepre- 
sentation. She  ought  to  have  remonstrated  with  me  private- 
ly before  she  interfered.  But  she  has  one  fault — she  is  too 
impulsive.  I  have  never,  in  all  my  experience,  met  with  such 
a  warm-hearted  person  as  she  is.  Always  too  considerate  of 
others;  always  too  forgetful  of  herself!  The  nsere  appear- 
ance of  the  police  officer  placed  you  in  a  situation  to  appeal 
to  her  compassion,  and  her  impulses  carried  her  away  as 
usual.  My  fault !  All  my  fault  !"* 

Grace  changed  her  tone  once  more.  She  was  quick  enough 
to  discern  that  Lady  Janet  was  a  match  for  her  with  her  own 
weapons. 

"  We  have  had  enough  of  this,"  she  said.     "  It  is  time  to 
be  serious.     Your  adopted  daughter  (as  you  call  her)  is  M. 
cy  Merrick,  and  you  know  it." 

Lady  Janet  returned  to  her  papers. 

"  I  am  Grace  Roseberry,  whose  name  she  has  stolen,  and 
you  know"£/u^." 

u 


234  TUK    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Lady  Janet  went  on  with  her  papers. 

Grace  got  up  from  her  chair. 

"  I  accept  your  silence,  Lady  Janet,"  she  said,  "  as  an  ac- 
knowledgment of  your  deliberate  resolution  to  suppress  the 
truth.  You  are  evidently  determined  to  receive  the  adven- 
turess as  the  true  woman ;  and  you  don't  scruple  to  face  the 
consequences  of  that  proceeding,  by  pretending  to  my  face  to 
believe  that  I  am  mad.  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  be  impu- 
dently cheated  out  of  my  rights  in  this  way.  You  will  hear 
from  me  again,  madam,  when  the  Canadian  mail  arrives  in 
England." 

She  walked  toward  the  door.  This  time  Lady  Janet  an- 
swered, as  readily  and  as  explicitly  as  it  was  possible  to  de- 
sire. 

"  I  shall  refuse  to  receive  your  letters,"  she  said. 

Grace  returned  a  few  steps,  threateningly. 

"My  letters  shall  be  followed  by  my  witnesses,"  she  pro- 
ceeded. 

"I  shall  refuse  to  receive  your  witnesses." 

"  Refuse  at  your  peril.     I  will  appeal  to  the  law." 

Lady  Janet  smiled. 

"I  don't,  pretend  to  much  knowledge  of  the  subject,"  she 
said ;  "  but  I  should  be  surprised  indeed  if  I  discovered  that 
you  had  any  claim  on  me  which  the  law  could  enforce.  How- 
ever, let  us  suppose  that  you  can  set  the  law  in  action.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  the  only  motive  power  which  can 
do  that  is — money.  I  am  rich ;  fees,  costs,  and  all  the  rest  of 
it  are  matters  of  no  sort  of  consequence  to  me.  May  I  ask  if 
you  are  in  the  same  position  ?" 

The  question  silenced  Grace.  So  far  as  money  was  con- 
cerned, she  was  literally  at  the  end  of  her  resources.  Her 
only  friends  were  friends  in  Canada.  After  what  she  had 
said  to  him  in  the  boudoir,  it  would  be  quite  useless  to  ap- 
peal to  the  sympathies  of  Julian  Gray.  In  the  pecuniary 
,  and  in  one  word,  she  was  absolutely  incapable  of  grati- 


THE    NEW    MAG1M1.KX.  235 

fying  her  own  vindictive  longings.  And  there  sat  the  mis- 
tress of  Mablethorpe  House,  perfectly  well  aware  of  it. 

Lady  Janet  pointed  to  the  empty  chair. 

"Suppose  you  sit  down  again?"  she  suggested.  "The 
course  of  our  interview  seems  to  have  brought  us  hack  to 
the  question  that  I  asked  you  when  you  came  into  my  room. 
Instead  of  threatening  me  with  the  law,  suppose  you  consid- 
er the  propriety  of  permitting  me  to  be  of  some  use  to  you. 
I  am  in  the  habit  of  assisting  ladies  in  embarra>-<  «1  circum- 
stances, and  nobody  knows  of  it  but  my  steward — who  keeps 
the  accounts — and  myself.  Once  more,  let  me  inquire  if  a 
little  advance  of  the  pecuniary  sort  (delicately  offered)  would 
be  acceptable  to  you?" 

Grace  returned  slowly  to  the  chair  that  she  had  left.  She 
stood  by  it,  with  one  hand  grasping  the  top  rail,  and  with  her 
eyes  fixed  in  mocking  scrutiny  on  Lady  Janet's  face. 

"At  last  your  ladyship  shows  your  hand,"  she  said. 
"  Hush-money  !" 

".  You  will  send  me  back  to  my  papers,"  rejoined  Lady  Ja- 
net. "  How  obstinate  you  are !" 

Grace's  hand  closed  tighter  and  tighter  round  the  rail  of 
the  chair.  Without  witnesses,  without  means,  without  so 
much  as  a  refuge — thanks  to  her  own  coarse  cruelties  of  lan- 
guage and  conduct — in  the  sympathies  of  others,  the  sense  of 
her  isolation  and  her  helplessness  was  almost  maddening  at 
that  final  moment.  A  woman  of  finer  sensibilities  would 
have  instantly  left  the  room.  Grace's  impenetrably  hard  and 
narrow  mind  impelled  her  to  meet  the  enu  rirency  in  a  very 
different  way.  A  last  base  vengeance,  to  which  Lady  .Janet 
had  voluntarily  exposed  herself,  was  still  within  her  reach. 
"  For  the  present,"  she  thought, "  there  is  but  one  way  of  be 
ing  even  with  your  ladyship.  I  can  cost  you  as  much  as  pos- 
sible." 

"  Pray  make  some  allowances  for  me,"  she  said.  "  I  am 
not  obstinate— I  am  only  a  little  awkward  at  matching  the 


236  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

audacity  of  a  lady  of  high  rank.  I  shall  improve  with  prac- 
tice. My  own  language  is,  as  I  am  painfully  aware,  only  plain 
English.  Permit  me  to  withdraw  it,  and  to  substitute  yours. 
What  advance  is  your  ladyship  (delicately)  prepared  to  offer 
me?" 

Lady  Janet  opened  a  drawer,  and  took  out  her  check-book. 

The  moment  of  relief  had  come  at  last !  The  only  ques- 
tion now  left  to  discuss  was  evidently  the  question  of 
amount.  Lady  Janet  considered  a  little.  The_  question  of 
amount  was  (to  her  mind)  in  some  sort  a  question  of  con- 
science as  well.  Her  love  for  Mercy  and  her  loathing  for 
Grace,  her  horror  of  seeing  her  darling  degraded  and  her  af- 
fection profaned  by  a  public  exposure,  had  hurried  her — there 
was  no  disputing  it — into  treating  an  injured  woman  harshly. 
Hateful  as  Grace  Roseberry  might  be,  her  father  had  left  her, 
in  his  last  moments,  with  Lady  Janet's  full  concurrence,  to 
Lady  Janet's  care.  But  for  Mercy  she  would  have  been  re- 
ceived at  Mablethorpe  House  as  Lady  Janet's  companion, 
with  a  salary  of  one  hundred  pounds  a  ye£r.  On  the  other 
hand,  how  long  (with  such  a  temper  as  she  had  revealed) 
would  Grace  have  remained  in  the  service  of  her  protectress  ? 
She  would  probably  have  been  dismissed  in  a  few  weeks, 
with  a  year's  salary  to  compensate  her,  and  with  a  recom- 
mendation to  some  suitable  employment.  What  would  be  a 
fair  compensation  now  ?  Lady  Janet  decided  that  five  years' 
salary  immediately  given,  and  future  assistance  rendered  if 
necessary,  would  represent  a  fit  remembrance  of  the  late  Col- 
onel Roseberry's  claims,  and  a  liberal  pecuniary  acknowledg- 
ment of  any  harshness  of  treatment  which  Grace  might  have 
sustained  at  her  hands.  At  the  same  time,  and  for  the  fur- 
ther satisfying  of  her  own  conscience,  she  determined  to  dis- 
cover the  sum  which  Grace  herself  would  consider  sufficient 
by  the  simple  process  of  making  Grace  herself  propose  the 
terms. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  make  you  an  offer,"  she  said, 


THE    NEW    MAGDAI  237 

"  for  this  reason — your  need  of  money  will  depend  greatly  on 
your  future  plans.  I  am  quite  ignorant  of  your  future  plans." 

"  Perhaps  your  ladyship  will  kindly  advise  me?"  said 
Grace,  satirically. 

"I  can  not  altogether  undertake  to  advise  you,"  Lady  Ja- 
net replied.  "I  can  only  suppose  that  you  will  scarcely  re- 
main in  England,  where  you  have  no  friends.  Whether  you 
go  to  law  with  me  or  not,  you  will  surely  feel  the  necessity 
of  communicating  personally  with  your  friends  in  Canada. 
Am  I  right  ?" 

Grace  was  quite  quick  enough  to  understand  this  as  it  was 
meant.  Properly  interpreted,  the  answer  signified — "  If  you 
take  your  compensation  in  money,  it  is  understood,  as  part  of 
the  bargain,  that  you  don't  remain  in  England  to  annoy  me.' 

"  Your  ladyship  is  quite  right,"  she  said.  "  I  shall  certain- 
ly not  remain  in  England.  I  shall  consult  my  friends — and," 
she  added,  mentally,  "  go  to  law  with  you  afterward,  if  I  pos- 
sibly can,  with  your  own  money  !" 

"  You  will  return  to  Canada,"  Lady  Janet  proceeded ; 
"  and  your  prospects  there  will  be,  probably,  a  little  uncertain 
at  first.  Taking  this  into  consideration,  at  what  amount  do 
you  estimate,  in  your  own  mind,  the  pecuniary  assistance 
which  you  will  require  ?" 

"  May  I  count  on  your  ladyship's  kindness  to  correct  me  if 
my  own  ignorant  calculations  turn  out  to  be  wrong  ?"  Grace 
asked,  innocently. 

Here  again  the  words,  properly  interpreted,  had  a  special 
signification  of  their  own  :  "  It  is  stipulated,  on  my  part,  that 
I  put  myself  up  to  auction,  and  that  my  estimate  shall  be- 
regulated  by  your  ladyship's  highest  bid."  Thoroughly  un- 
derstanding the  stipulation,  Lady  Janet  bowed,  and  waitrd 
gravely. 

Gravely,  on  her  side,  Grace  began. 

"I  am  afraid  I  should  want  more  than  a  hundred  pound.-," 
she  said. 


238  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

Lady  Janet  made  her  first  bid.     "  I  think  so  too." 

"  More,  perhaps,  than  two  hundred  ?" 

Lady  Janet  made  her  second  bid.     "  Probably." 

"More  than  three  hundred?     Four  hundred?     Five  hun 
dred  ?" 

Lady  Janet  made  her  highest  bid.  "  Five  hundred  pounds 
will  do,"  she  said. 

In  spite  of  herself,  Grace's  rising  color  betrayed  her  un- 
governable excitement.  From  her  earliest  childhood  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  see  shillings  and  sixpences  carefully  con- 
sidered before  they  were  parted  with.  She  had  never  known 
her  father  to  possess  so  much  as  five  golden  sovereigns  at  his 
own  disposal  (unencumbered  by  debt)  in  all  her  experience  of 
him.  The  atmosphere  in  which  she  had  lived  and  breathed 
was  the  all-stifling  one  of  genteel  poverty.  There  was  some- 
thing horrible  in  the  greedy  eagerness  "of  her  eyes  as  they 
watched  Lady  Janet,  to  see  if  she  was  really  sufficiently  in 
earnest  to  give  away  five  hundred  pounds  sterling  with  a 
stroke  of  her  pen. 

Lady  Janet  wrote  the  check  in  a  few  seconds,  and  pushed 
it  across  the  table. 

Grace's  hungry  eyes  devoured  the  golden  line,  "  Pay  to  my- 
self or  bearer  five  hundred  pounds,"  and  verified  the  signa- 
ture beneath,  "  Janet  Roy."  Once  sure  of  the  money  when- 
ever she  chose  to  take  it,  the  native  meanness  of  her  nature 
instantly  asserted  itself.  She  tossed  her  head,  and  let  the 
check  lie  on  the  table,  with  an  overacted  appearance  of  caring 
very  little  whether  she  took  it  or  not. 

"Your  ladyship  is  not  to  suppose  that  I  snap  at  your 
check,"  she  said. 

Lady  Janet  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  closed  her  eyes. 
The  very  sight  of  Grace  Roseberry  sickened  her.  Her  mind 
filled  suddenly  with  the  image  of  Mercy.  She  longed  to  feast 
her  eyes  again  on  that  grand  beauty,  to  fill  her  ears  again 
with  the  melody  of  that  gentle  voice. 


T11E    XKW    M.\«.I».\I.K\.  ._>.-,,, 

"I  require  time  to  consider — in  justice  to  my  own  self- 
respect,"  Grace  went  on. 

Lady  Janet  wearily  made  a  sign,  granting  time  to  consider. 

"Your  ladyship's  boudoir  is, I  presume, still  at  my  dispo- 
sal ?" 

Lady  Janet  silently  granted  the  boudoir. 

"Ami  your  ladyship's  servants  are  at  my  orders,  if  I  ha\.- 
occasion  to  employ  them  ?" 

Lady  Janet  suddenly  opened  her  eyes.  "  The  whole  house- 
hold is  at  your  orders  !"  she  cried,  furiously.  "  Leave  n 

Grace  was  far  from  being  offended.  If  any  tiling,  she  was 
-ratified— there  was  a  certain  triumph  in  having  stung  Lady 
Janet  into  an  open  outbreak  of  temper.  She  insisted  forth- 
with on  another  condition. 

"In  the  event  of  my  deciding  to  receive  the  check,"  she 
said,  "I  can  not,  consistently  with  my  own  self-respect,  permit 
it  to  be  delivered  to  me  otherwise  than  inclosed.  Your  la- 
dyship will  (if  necessary)  be  so  kind  as  to  inclose  it.  Good- 
f  ven  ing." 

She  sauntered  to  the  door,  looking  from  side  to  side,  with 
an  air  of  supreme  disparagement,  at  the  priceless  treasures  of 
art  which  adorned  the  walls.  Her  eyes  dropped  supercilious- 
ly on  the  carpet  (the  design  of  a  famous  French  painter),  as  if 
her  feet  condescended  in  walking  over  it.  The  audacity  with 
which  she  had  entered  the  room  had  been  marked  enough; 
it  shrank  to  nothing  before  the  infinitely  superior  proportions 
of  the  insolence  with  which  she  left  it. 

The  instant  the  door  was  closed  Lady  Janet  rose  from  her 
chair.  Reckless  of  the  wintry  chill  in  the  outer  air,  she  threw 
open  one  of  the  windows.  "Pah!"  she  exclaimed,  with  a 
shudder  of  disgust,  "  the  very  air  of  the  room  is  tainted 
by  her  !" 

She  returned  to  her  chair.  Her  mood  changed  as  she  sat 
down  again — her  heart  was  with  Mercy  once  more.  "Oh, 
my  love  !"  she  murmured,  "  how  low  I  have  stooped,  how 


240  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

miserably  I  have  degraded  myself — and  all  for  You !"  The 
bitterness  of  the  retrospect  was  unendurable.  The  inbred 
force  of  the  woman's  nature  took  refuge  from  it  in  an  out- 
burst of  defiance  and  despair.  "  Whatever  she  has  done,  that 
wretch  deserves  it !  Not  a  living  creature  in  this  house  shall 
say  she  has  deceived  me.  She  has  not  deceived  me  —  she 
loves  me  !  What  do  I  care  whether  she  has  given  me  her 
true  name  or  not !  She  has  given  me  her  true  heart.  What 
right  had  Julian  to  play  upon  her  feelings  and  pry  into  her 
secrets  ?  My  poor  tempted,  tortured  child  !  I  won't  hear 
her  confession.  Not  another  word  shall  she  say  to  any  liv- 
ing creature.  I  am  mistress — I  will  forbid  it  at  once  !"  She 
snatched  a  sheet  of  note-paper  from  the  case ;  hesitated,  and 
threw  it  from  her  on  the  table.  "Why  not  send  for  my 
darling?"  she  thought.  "Why  write?"  She  hesitated  once 
more,  and  resigned  the  idea.  "  No  !  I  can't  trust  myself  !  I 
daren't  see  her  yet !" 

She  took  up  the  sheet  of  paper  again,  and  wrote  her  second 
message  to  Mercy.  This  time  the  note  began  fondly  with  a 
familiar  form  of  address. 

"  MY  DEAR  CHILD, — I  have  had  time  to  think,  and  compose 
myself  a  little,  since  I  last  wrote,  requesting  you  to  defer  the 
explanation  which  you  had  promised  me.  I  already  under- 
stand (and  appreciate)  the  motives  which  led  you  to  interfere 
as  you  did  down  stairs,  and  I  now  ask  you  to  entirely  aban- 
don the  explanation.  It  will,  I  am  sure,  be  painful  to  you 
(for  reasons  of  your  own  into  which  I  have  no  wish  to  in- 
quire) to  produce  the  person  of  whom  you  spoke,  and  as  you 
know  already,  I  myself  am  weary  of  hearing  of  her.  Besides, 
there  is  really  no  need  now  for  you  to  explain  any  thing.' 
The  stranger  whose  visits  here  have  caused  us  so  much  pain 
and  anxiety  will  trouble  us  no  more.  She  leaves  England  of 
her  own  free-will,  after  a  conversation  with  me  which  has 
perfectly  succeeded  in  composing  and  satisfying  her.  Not  a 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  241 

word  more,  my  dear,  to  me,  or  to  my  nephew,  or  to  any  other 
human  creature,  of  what  has  happened  in  the  dining-room  to- 
day. When  we  next  meet,  let  it  be  understood  between  us 
that  the  past  is  henceforth  and  forever  buried  in  oblivion. 
This  is  not  only  the  earnest  request — it  is,  if  necessary,  the 
positive  command,  of  your  mother  and  friend,  JANET  ROY. 

"  P.S. — I  shall  find  opportunities  (before  you  leave  your 
room)  of  speaking  separately  to  my  nephew  and  to  Horace 
Holmcroft.  You  need  dread  no  embarrassment,  when  you 
next  meet  them.  I  will  not  ask  you  to  answer  my  note  in 
writing.  Say  yes,  to  the  maid  who  will  bring  it  to  you,  and 
I  shall  know  we  understand  each  other." 

After  sealing  the  envelope  which  inclosed  these  lines,  Lady 
Janet  addressed  it,  as  usual,  to  "  Miss  Grace  Roseberry."  She 
was  just  rising  to  ring  the  bell,  when  the  maid  appeared  with 
a  message  from  the  boudoir.  The  woman's  tones  and  looks 
showed  plainly  that  she  had  been  made  the  object  of  Grace's 
insolent  self-assertion  as  well  as  her  mistress. 

"  If  you  please,  my  lady,  the  person  down  stairs  wishes — 

Lady  Janet,  frowning  contemptuously,  interrupted  the  mes- 
sage at  the  outset.  "  I  know  what  the  person  down  stairs 
wishes.  She  has  sent  you  for  a  letter  from  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"Any  thing  more?" 

"  She  has  sent  one  of  the  men-servants,  my  lady,  for  a  cab. 
If  your  ladyship  had  only  heard  how  she  spoke  to  him  !" 

Lady  Janet  intimated  by  a  sign  that  she  would  rather  not 
hear.  She  at  once  inclosed  the  check  in  an  undirected  en- 
velope. 

"  Take  that  to  her,"  she  said,  "  and  then  come  back  to  me." 

Dismissing  Grace  Roseberry  from  all  further  consideration, 
Lady  Janet  sat,  with  her  letter  to  Mercy  in  her  hand,  reflect- 
ing on  her  position,  and  on  the  efforts  which  it  might  still 
demand  from  her.  Pursuing  this  train  of  thought,  it  now 

U* 


242  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

occurred  to  her  that  accident  might  bring  Horace  and  Mercy 
together  at  any  moment,  and  that,  in  Horace's  present  frame 
of  mind,  he  would  certainly  insist  on  the  very  explanation 
which  it  was  the  foremost  interest  of  her  life  to  suppress. 
The  dread  of  this  disaster  was  in  full  possession  of  her  when 
the  maid  returned. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Holmcroft?"  she  asked,  the  moment  the 
woman  entered  the  room. 

"I  saw  him  open  the  library  door,  my  lady,  just  now,  on 
my  way  up  stairs." 

"  Was  he  alone  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  Go  to  him,  and  say  I  want  to  see  him  here  immediately." 

The  maid  withdrew  on  her  second  errand.  Lady  Janet 
rose  restlessly,  and  closed  the  open  window.  Her  impatient 
desire  to  make  sure  of  Horace  so  completely  mastered  her 
that  she  left  her  room,  and  met  the  woman  in  the  corridor  on 
her  return.  Receiving  Horace's  message  of  excuse,  she  in- 
stantly sent  back  the  peremptory  rejoinder,  "  Say  that  he  will 
oblige  me  to  go  to  him,  if  he  persists  in  refusing  to  come  to 
me.  And,  stay!"  she  added,  remembering  the  undelivered 
letter.  "  Send  Miss  Roseberry's  maid  here  ;  I  want  her." 

Left  alone  again,  Lady  Janet  paced  once  or  twice  up  and 
down  the  corridor — then  grew  suddenly  weary  of  the  sight 
of  it,  and  went  back  to  her  room.  The  two  maids  returned 
together.  One  of  them,  having  announced  Horace's  submis- 
sion, was  dismissed.  The  other  was  sent  to  Mercy's  room, 
with  Lady  Janet's  letter.  In  a  minute  or  two  the  messenger 
appeared  again,  with  the  news  that  she  had  found  the  room 
empty. 

"  Have  you  any  idea  where  Miss  Roseberry  is  ?" 

"  No,  my  lady." 

Lady  Janet  reflected  for  a  moment.  If  Horace  presented 
himself  without  any  needless  delay,  the  plain  inference  would 
be  that  she  had  succeeded  in  separating  him  from  Mercy.  If 


THE    NEW    MAliDALKA".  243 

his  appearance  was  suspiciously  deferred,  she  decided  on  \n-\-- 
sonully  searching  for  Mercy  in  the  reception-rooms  on  the 
low.er  floor  of  the  house. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  letter  ?"  she  asked. 

"  I  left  it  on  Miss  Roseberry's  table,  my  lady." 

"  Very  well.  Keep  within  hearing  of  the  bell,  in  case  I 
want  you  again." 

Another  minute  brought  Lady  Janet's  suspense  to  an  end. 
She  heard  the  welcome  sound  of  a  knock  at  her  door  from  a 
man's  hand.  Horace  hurriedly  entered  the  room. 

"  What  is  it  you  want  with  me, Lady  Janet?"  he  inquired, 
not  very  graciously. 

"  Sit  down,  Horace,  and  you  shall  hear." 

Horace  did  not  accept  the  invitation.  "Excuse  tie,"  he 
said, "  if  I  mention  that  I  am  rather  in  a  hurry." 

"  Why  are  you  in  a  hurry  ?" 

"I  have  reasons  for  wishing  to  see  Grace  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible." 

"And  I  have  reasons,"  Lady  Janet  rejoined,  "  for  wishing 
to  speak  to  you  about  Grace  before  you  see  her ;  serious  rea- 
sons. Sit  down." 

Horace  started.  "  Serious  reasons  ?"  he  repeated.  "  You 
surprise  me." 

"  I  shall  surprise  you  still  more  before  I  have  done." 

Their  eyes  met  as  Lady  Janet  answered  in  those  term-. 
Horace  observed  signs  of  agitation  in  her,  which  he  now  im 
ticed  for  the  first  time.  His  face  darkened  with  an  exj>rc-> 
sion  of  sullen  distrust — and  he  took  the  chair  in  silence. 


244  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

/ 

-LADY  JANET'S  LETTER. 

THE  narrative  leaves  Lady  Janet  and  Horace  Holmcroft  to- 
gether, and  returns  to  Julian  and  Mercy  in  the  library. 

An  interval  passed — a  long  interval,  measured  by  the  im- 
patient reckoning  of  suspense — after  the  cab  which  had  taken 
Grace  Roseberry  away  had  left  the  house.  The  minutes  fol- 
lowed each  other;  and  still  the  warning  sound  of  Horace's 
footsteps  was  not  heard  on  the  marble  pavement  of  the  hall. 
By  common  (though  unexpressed)  consent,  Julian  and  Mercy 
avoided  touching  upon  the  one  subject  on  which  they  were 
now  both  interested  alike.  With  their  thoughts  fixed  secret- 
ly in  vain  speculation  on  the  nature  of  the  interview  which 
was  then  taking  place  in  Lady  Janet's  room,  they  tried  to 
speak  on  topics  indifferent  to  both  of  them — tried,  and  failed, 
and  tried  again.  In  3  last  and  longest  pause  of  silence  be- 
tween them,  the  next  event  happened.  The  door  from  the 
hall  was  softly  and  suddenly  opened. 

Was  it  Horace  ?  No — not  even  yet.  The  person  who  had 
opened  the  door  was  only  Mercy's  maid. 

"My  lady's  love,  miss;  and  will  you  please  to  read  this  di- 
rectly?" 

Giving  her  message  in  those  terms,  the  woman  produced 
from  the  pocket  of  her  apron  Lady  Janet's  second  letter  to 
Mercy,  with  a  strip  of  paper  oddly  pinned  round  the  envelope. 
Mercy  detached  the  paper,  and  found  on  the  inner  side  some 
lines  in  pencil,  hurriedly  written  in  Lady  Janet's  hand.  They 
ran  thus : 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  245 

"Don't  lose  a  moment  in  reading  my  letter.  And  mind 
this,  when  H.  returns  to  you  —  meet  him  firmly:  say  noth- 
ing." 

Enlightened  by  the  warning  words  which  Julian  had  spo- 
ken to  her,  Mercy  was  at  no  loss  to  place  the  right  interpreta- 
tion on  those  strange  lines.  Instead  of  immediately  opening 
the  letter,  she  stopped  the  maid  at  the  library  door.  Julian's 
suspicion  of  the  most  trifling  events  that  were  taking  place  in 
the  house  had  found  its  way  from  his  mind  to  hers.  "  Wait !" 
she  said.  "I  don't  understand  what  is  going  on  up  stairs;  I 
want  to  ask  you  something." 

The  woman  came  back — not  very  willingly. 

"  How  did  you  know  I  was  here?"  Mercy  inquired. 

"  If  you  please,  miss,  her  ladyship  ordered  me  to  take  the 
letter  to  you  some  little  time  since.  You  were  not  in  your 
room,  and  I  left  it  on  your  table — 

"  I  understand  that.  But  how  came  you  to  bring  the  let- 
ter here?" 

"  My  lady  rang  for  me,  miss.  Before  I  could  knock  at  her 
door  she  came  out  into  the  corridor  with  that  morsel  of  pa- 
per in  her  hand — 

"  So  as  to  keep  you  from  entering  her  room  ?" 

"  Yes,  miss.  Her  ladyship  wrote  on  the  paper  in  a  great 
hurry,  and  told  me  to  pin  it  round  the  letter  that  I  had  K-ft 
in  your  room.  I  was  to  take  them  both  together  to  you,  and 
to  let  nobody  see  me.  '  You  will  find  Miss  Roseberry  in  the 
library '  (her  ladyship  says), '  and  run,  run,  run  !  there  isn't  a 
moment  to  lose  !'  Those  were  her  own  words,  miss." 

"  Did  you  hear  any  thing  in  the  room  before  Lady  Janet 
came  out  and  met  you?" 

The  woman  hesitated,  and  looked  at  Julian. 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  I  ought  to  tell  you,  miss." 

Julian  turned  away  to  leave  the  library.  Mercy  stopped 
him  by  a  motion  of  her  hand. 

"  You  know  that  I  shall  not  get  you  into  any  trouble,"  she 


246  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

said  to  the  maid.  "And  you  may  speak  quite  safely  before 
Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

Thus  re-assured,  the  maid  spoke. 

"  To  own  the  truth,  miss,  I  heard  Mr.  Holmcroft  in  my 
lady's  room.  His  voice  sounded  as  if  he  was  angry.  I  may 
say  they  were  both  angry — Mr.  Holmcroft  and  my  lady." 
(She  turned  to  Julian.)  "And  just  before  her  ladyship  came 
out,  sir,  I  heard  your  name,  as  if  it  was  you  they  were  having 
words  about.  I  can't  say  exactly  what  it  was ;  I  hadn't  time 
to  hear.  And  I  didn't  listen,  miss;  the  door  was  ajar;  and 
the  voices  were  so  loud  nobody  could  help  hearing  them." 

It  was  useless  to  detain  the  woman  any  longer.  Having 
given  her  leave  to  withdraw,  Mercy  turned  to  Julian. 

"Why  were  they  quarreling  about  you?"  she  asked. 

Julian  pointed  to  the  unopened  letter  in  her  hand. 

"The  answer  to  your  question  may  be  there,"  he  said. 
"Read  the  letter  while  you  have  the  chance.  And  if  I  can 
advise  you,  say  so  at  once." 

With  a  strange  reluctance  she  opened  the  envelope.  With 
a  sinking  heart  she  read  the  lines  in  which  Lady  Janet,  as 
"  mother  and  friend,"  commanded  her  absolutely  to  suppress 
the  confession  which  she  had  pledged  herself  to  make  in  the 
sacred  interests  of  justice  and  truth.  A  low  cry  of  despair 
escaped  her,  as  the  cruel  complication  in  her  position  reveal- 
ed itself  in  all  its  unmerited  hardship.  "  Oh,  Lady  Janet, 
Lady  Janet !"  she  thought,  "  there  was  but  one  trial  more 
left  in  my  hard  lot — and  it  comes  to  me  from  you  /" 

She  handed  the  letter  to  Julian.  He  took  it  from  her  in 
silence.  His  pale  complexion  turned  paler  still  as  he  read  it. 
His  eyes  rested  on  her  compassionately  as  he  handed  it  back. 

"  To  my  mind,"  he  said,  "  Lady  Janet  herself  sets  all  fur- 
ther doubt  at  rest.  Her  letter  tells  me  what  she  wanted 
when  she  sent  for  Horace,  and  why  my  name  was  mentioned 
between  them." 

"  Tell  me !"  cried  Mercy,  eagerly. 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  247 

He  did  not  immediately  answer  her.  He  sat  down  again 
in  the  chair  by  her  side,  and  pointed  to  the  letter. 

"Has  Lady  Janet  shaken  your  resolution?"  he  asked. 

"  She  has  strengthened  my  resolution,"  Mercy  answered. 
"  She  has  added  a  new  bitterness  to  my  remorse." 

She  did  not  mean  it  harshly,  but  the  reply  sounded  harshly 
in  Julian's  ears.  It  stirred  the  generous  impulses,  which  were 
the  strongest  impulses  in  his  nature.  He  who  had  once  plead- 
ed with  Mercy  for  compassionate  consideration  for  herself 
now  pleaded  with  her  for  compassionate  consideration  for 
Lady  Janet.  With  persuasive  gentleness  he  drew  a  little 
nearer,  and  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Don't  judge  her  harshly,"  he  said.  "  She  is  wrong,  mis- 
erably wrong.  She  has  recklessly  degraded  herself;  she  has 
recklessly  tempted  you.  Still,  is  it  generous — is  it  even  just 
— to  hold  her  responsible  for  deliberate  sin?  She  is  at  the 
close  of  her  days ;  she  can  feel  no  new  affection ;  she  can 
never  replace  you.  View  her  position  in  that  light,  and  you 
will  see  (as  I  see)  that  it  is  no  base  motive  which  has  led  her 
astray.  Think  of  her  wounded  heart  and  her  wasted  life — 
and  say  to  yourself  forgivingly,  She  loves  me !" 

Mercy's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  I  do  say  it !"  she  answered.  "  Not  forgivingly — it  is  I 
who  have  need  of  forgiveness.  I  say  it  gratefully  when  I 
think  of  her — I  say  it  with  shame  and  sorrow  when  I  think 
of  myself." 

He  took  her  hand  for  the  first  time.  He  looked,  guiltless- 
ly looked,  at  her  downcast  face.  He  spoke  as  he  had  spoken 
at  the  memorable  interview  between  them  which  had  made  a 
new  woman  of  her. 

"  I  can  imagine  no  crueler  trial,"  he  said,  "  than  the  trial 
that  is  now  before  you.  The  benefactress  to  whom  you  owe 
every  thing  asks  nothing  from  you  but  your  silence.  The 
person  whom  you  have  wronged  is  no  longer  present  to  stim- 
ulate your  resolution  to  speak.  Horace  himself  (unless  I  am 


248  THE    NEW   MAGDALEX. 

entirely  mistaken)  will  not  hold  you  to  the  explanation  thot 
you  have  promised.  The  temptation  to  keep  your  false  posi- 
tion in  this  house  is,  I  do  not  scruple  to  say,  all  but  irresisti- 
ble. Sister  and  friend  !  can  you  still  justify  my  faith  in  you? 
Will  you  still  own  the  truth,  without  the  base  fear  of  discov- 
ery to  drive  you  to  it?" 

She  lifted  her  head,  with  the  steady  light  of  resolution 
shining  again  in  her  grand  gray  eyes.  Her  low,  sweet  voice 
answered  him,  without  a  faltering  note  in  it, 

"I  will!" 

"  You  will  do  justice  to  the  woman  whom  you  have  wronged 
— unworthy  as  she  is ;  powerless  as  she  is  to  expose  you  ?" 

"  I  will !" 

"  You  will  sacrifice  every  thing  you  have  gained  by  the 
fraud  to  the  sacred  duty  of  atonement  ?  You  will  suffer  any 
thing — even  though  you  offend  the  second  mother  who  has 
loved  you  and  sinned  for  you — rather  than  suffer  the  degra- 
dation of  yourself  ?" 

Her  hand  closed  firmly  on  bis.  Again,  and  for  the  last  time, 
she  answered, 

"I  will!" 

His  voice  had  not  trembled  yet.  It  failed  him  now.  His 
next  words  were  spoken  in  faint  whispering  tones — to  him- 
self ;  not  to  her. 

"  Thank  God  for  this  day  !"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  of 
some  service  to  one  of  the  noblest  of  God's  creatures  !" 

Some  subtle  influence,  as  he  spoke,  passed  from  his  hand 
to  hers.  It  trembled  through  her  nerves ;  it  entwined  itself 
mysteriously  with  the  finest  sensibilities  in  her  nature;  it 
softly  opened  her  heart  to  a  first  vague  surmising  of  the  de- 
votion that  she  had  inspired  in  him.  A  faint  glow  of  color, 
lovely  in  its  faintness,  stole  over  her  face  and  neck.  Her 
breathing  quickened  tremblingly.  She  drew  her  hand  away 
from  him,  and  sighed  when  she  had  released  it. 

He  rose  suddenly  to  his  feet  and  left  her,  without  a  word 


THE    NEW    MAGDAI.I  V  -}'. 

or  a  look,  walking  slowly  down  the  length  of  the  room. 
When  he  turned  and  came  back  to  her,  his  face  was  com- 
posed ;  he  was  master  of  himself  again. 

Mercy  was  the  first  to  speak.  She  turned  the  conversation 
from  herself  by  reverting  to  the  proceedings  in  Lady  Janet's 
room. 

"You  spoke  of  Horace  just  now,"  she  said,  "  in  terms 
which  surprised  me.  You  appeared  to  think  that  he  would 
not  hold  me  to  my  explanation.  Is  that  one  of  the  conclu- 
sions vhich  you  draw  from  Lady  Janet's  letter  ?" 

"Most  assuredly,"  Julian  answered.  "You  will  see  the 
conclusion  as  I  see  it  if  we  return  for  a  moment  to  Grace 
Roseberry's  departure  from  the  house." 

Mercy  interrupted  him  there.  "Can  you  guess,"  she 
asked, "  how  Lady  Janet  prevailed  upon  her  to  go  ?" 

"  I  hardly  like  to  own  it,"  said  Julian.  "  There  is  an  ex- 
pression in  the  letter  which  suggests  to  me  that  Lady  Janet 
has  offered  her  money,  and  that  she  has  taken  the  bribe." 

"  Oh,  I  can't  think  that !" 

"Let  us  return  to  Horace.  Miss  Roseberry  once  out  of 
the  house,  but  one  serious  obstacle  is  left  in  Lady  Janet's  way. 
That  obstacle  is  Horace  Holmcroft." 

"How  is  Horace  an  obstacle?" 

"  He  is  an  obstacle  in  this  sense.  He  is  under  an  engage- 
ment to  marry  you  in  a  week's  time ;  and  Lady  Janet  is  de- 
termined to  keep  him  (as  she  is  determined  to  keep  every 
one  else)  in  ignorance  of  the  truth.  She  will  do  that  without 
scruple.  But  the  inbred  sense  of  honor  in  her  is  not  utterly 
silenced  yet.  She  can  not,  she  dare  not,  let  Horace  make 
you  his  wife  under  the  false  impression  that  you  are  Colonel 
Roseberry's  daughter.  You  see  the  situation  ?  On  the  one 
hand,  she  won't  enlighten  him.  On  the  other  hand,  she  ran 
not  "allow  him  to  marry  you  blindfold.  In  this  i-im-i ^ciicy 
what  is  she  to  do  ?  There  is  but  one  alternative  that  I  can 


250  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

discover.  She  must  persuade  Horace  (or  she  must  irritate 
Horace)  into  acting  for  himself,  and  breaking  off  the  engage- 
ment on  his  own  responsibility." 

Mercy  stopped  him.  "Impossible!"  she  cried,  warmly. 
"Impossible!" 

"Look  again  at  her  letter,"  Julian  rejoined.  "  It  tells  you 
plainly  that  you  need  fear  no  embarrassment  when  you  next 
meet  Horace.  If  words  mean  any  thing,  those  words  mean 
that  he  will  not  claim  from  you  the  confidence  which  you 
have  promised  to  repose  in  him.  On  what  condition  is  it 
possible  for  him  to  abstain  from  doing  that?  On  the  one 
condition  that  you  have  ceased  to  represent  the  first  and  fore- 
most interest  of  his  life." 

Mercy  still  held  firm.  "  You  are  wronging  Lady  Janet," 
she  said. 

Julian  smiled  sadly. 

"  Try  to  look  at  it,"  he  answered, "  from  Lady  Janet's  point 
of  view.  Do  you  suppose  she  sees  any  thing  derogatory  to 
her  in  attempting  to  break  off  the  marriage?  I  will  ans\ver 
for  it,  she  believes  she  is  doing  you  a  kindness.  In  one  sense 
it  would  be  a  kindness  to  spare  you  the  shame  of  a  humilia- 
ting confession,  and  to  save  you  (possibly)  from  being  rejected 
to  your  face  by  the  man  you  love.  In  my  opinion,  the  thing 
is  done  already.  I  have  reasons  of  my  own  for  believing  that 
my  aunt  will  succeed  far  more  easily  than  she  could  antici- 
pate. Horace's  temper  will  help  her." 

Mercy's  mind  began  to  yield  to  him,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  Horace's  temper  ?"  she  inquired. 

"Must  you  ask  me  that?"  he  said,  drawing  back  a  little 
from  her. 

"I  must.  ' 

"  I  mean  by  Horace's  temper,  Horace's  unworthy  distrust 
of  the  interest  that  I  feel  in  you." 

She  instantly  understood  him.  And  more  than  that,  she 
secretly  admired  him  for  the  scrupulous  delicacy  with  which 


THE    NK\V    MAdDALEX.  251 

he  had  expressed  himself.  Another  man  would  not  li.-iu- 
thought  of  sparing  her  in  that  way.  Another  man  would 
have  said,  plainly, "  Horace  is  jealous  of  me." 

Julian  did  not  wait  for  her  to  answer  him.  He  consider- 
ately went  on. 

"  For  the  reason  that  I  have  just  mentioned,"  he  said, "  Hor- 
ace will  be  easily  irritated  into  taking  a  course  which,  in  his 
calmer  moments,  nothing  would  induce  him  to  adopt.  I'ntil 
I  heard  what  your  maid  said  to  you  I  had  thought  (for  your 
sake)  of  retiring  before  he  joined  you  here.  Now  I  know 
that  my  name  has  been  introduced,  and  has  made  mischief 
up  stairs,  I  feel  the  necessity  (for  your  sake  again)  of  meet  ing 
Horace  and  his  temper  face  to  face  before  you  see  him.  Let 
me,  if  I  can,  prepare  him  to  hear  you  without  any  angry  fee-l- 
ing in  his  mind  toward  you.  Do  you  object  to  retire  to  the 
next  room  for  a  few  minutes  in  the  event  of  his  corning  back 
to  the  library  ?" 

Mercy's  courage  instantly  rose  with  the  emergency.  She 
refused  to  leave  the  two  men  together. 

"  Don't  think  me  insensible  to  your  kindness,"  she  said. 
"  If  I  leave  you  with  Horace  I  may  expose  you  to  insult.  I 
refuse  to  do  that.  What  makes  you  doubt  his  coming  back  ?" 

"  His  prolonged  absence  makes  me  doubt  it,"  Julian  replied. 
"  Tn  my  belief,  the  marriage  is  broken  off.  He  may  go  as 
Grace  Roseberry  has  gone.  You  may  never  see  him  again." 

The  instant  the  opinion  was  uttered,  it  was  practically  COM 
tradicted  by  the  man  himself.  Horace  opened  the  library 
door. 


252  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

THE      CONFESSION. 

HE  stopped  just  inside  the  door.  His  first  look  was  ior 
Mercy  ;  his  second  look  was  for  Julian. 

"I  knew  it !"  he  said,  with  an  assumption  of  sardonic  com- 
posure. "  If  I  could  only  have  persuaded  Lady  Janet  to  bet, 
I  should  have  won  a  hundred  pounds."  He  advanced  to  Ju- 
lian, with  a  sudden  change  from  irony  to  anger.  "  Would 
you  like  to  hear  what  the  bet  was  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  should  prefer  seeing  you  able  to  control  yourself  in  the 
presence  of  this  lady,"  Julian  answered,  quietly. 

"  I  offered  to  lay  Lady  Janet  two  hundred  pounds  to  one," 
Horace  proceeded,  "  that  I  should  find  you  here,  making  love 
to  Miss  Roseberry  behind  my  back." 

Mercy  interfered  before  Julian  could  reply. 

"  If  you  can  not  speak  without  insulting  one  of  us,"  she 
said,  "  permit  me  to  request  that  you  will  not  address  your- 
self to  Mr.  Julian  Gray." 

Horace  bowed  to  her  with  a  mockery  of  respect. 

"Pray  don't  alarm  yourself  —  I  am  pledged  to  be  scru- 
pulously civil  to  both  of  you,"  he  said.  "  Lady  Janet  only 
allowed  me  to  leave  her  on  condition  of  my  promising  to  be- 
have with  perfect  politeness.  What  else  can  I  do?  I  have 
two  privileged  people  to  deal  with — a  parson  and  a  woman. 
The  parson's  profession  protects  him,  and  the  woman's  sex 
protects  her.  You  have  got  me  at  a  disadvantage,  and  you 
both  of  you  know  it.  I  beg  to  apologize  if  I  have  forgotten 
the  clergyman's  profession  and  the  lady's  sex. 

"  You  have  forgotten  more  than  that,"  said  Julian.  "  You 
have  forgotten  that  you  were  born  a  gentleman  and  bred  a 


THE   M:\V  MA'.iiAi.i.N.  253 

man  of  honor.  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  don't  ask  you  to 
remember  that  I  am  a  clergyman — I  obtrude  my  prof, 
on  nobody — I  only  ask  you  to  remember  your  birth  and  your 
breeding.  It  is  quite  bad  enough  to  cruelly  and  unjustly 
suspect  an  old  friend  who  has  never  forgotten  what  he 
owes  to  you  and  to  himself.  But  it  is  still  more  unworthy 
of  you  to  acknowledge  those  suspicions  in  the  hearing  of  a 
woman  whom  your  own  choice  has  doubly  bound  you  to  re- 
spect." 

He  stopped.  The  two  eyed  each  other  for  a  moment  in 
silence. 

It  was  impossible  for  Mercy  to  look  at  them,  as  she  was 
looking  now,  without  drawing  the  inevitable  comparison  be- 
tween the  manly  force  and  dignity  of  Julian  and  the  woman- 
ish malice  and  irritability  of  Horace.  A  last  faithful  impulse 
of  loyalty  toward  the  man  to  whom  she  had  been  betrothed 
impelled  her  to  part  them,  before  Horace  had  hopelessly  de- 
graded himself  in  her  estimation  by  contrast  with  Julian. 

"  You  had  better  wait  to  speak  to  me,"  she  said  to  him, 
"  until  we  are  alone." 

"  Certainly,"  Horace  answered,  with  a  sneer,  "  if  Mr.  Ju 
lian  Gray  will  permit  it." 

Mercy  turned  to  Julian,  with  a  look  which  said  plainly, 
"  Pity  us  both,  and  leave  us  !" 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  go,"  he  asked. 

"Add  to  all  your  other  kindnesses  to  me,"  she  answered. 
"  Wait  for  me  in  that  room." 

She  pointed  to  the  door  that  led  into  the  dining-room.  Ju- 
lian hesitated. 

"  You  promise  to  let  me  know  it  if  I  can  be  of  the  smallest 
service  to  you  ?"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  yes  !"  She  followed  him  as  he  withdrew,  and  added, 
rapidly,  in  a  whisper,  "  Leave  the  door  ajar !" 

He  made  no  answer.  As  she  returned  to  Horace  he  enter- 
ed the  dining-room.  The  one  concession  he  could  make  to 


254  THE    NEW  MAGDALEN. 

her  he  did  make.     He  closed  the  door  so  noiselessly  that  not 
even  her  quick  hearing  could  detect  that  he  had  shut  it. 

Mercy  spoke  to  Horace,  without  waiting  to  let  him  speak 
first. 

"I  have  promised  you  an  explanation  of  my  conduct,"  she 
said,  in  accents  that  trembled  a  little  in  spite  of  herself.  "  I 
am  ready  to  perform  my  promise." 

"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you  before  you  do  that,"  he  re- 
joined. "  Can  you  speak  the  truth  ?" 

"  I  am  waiting  to  speak  the  truth." 

"I  will  give  you  an  opportunity.  Are  you  or  are  you  not 
in  love  with  Julian  Gray  ?" 

"  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  ask  the  question  !" 

"  Is  that  your  only  answer?" 

*  "I  have  never  been  unfaithful  to  you,  Horace,  even  in 
thought.  If  I  had  not  been  true  to  you,  should  I  feel  my  po- 
sition as  you  see  I  feel  it  now  ?" 

He  smiled  bitterly.  "I  have  my  own  opinion  of  your 
fidelity  and  of  his  honor,"  he  said.  "  You  couldn't  even  Send 
him  into  the  next  room  without  whispering  to  him  first. 
Never  mind  that  now.  At  least  you  know  that  Julian  Gray 
is  in  love  with  you." 

"Mr.  Julian  Gray  has  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  to  me." 

"A  man  can  show  a  woman  that  he  loves  her,  without  say- 
ing it  in  words." 

Mercy's  power  of  endurance  began  to  fail  her.  Not  even 
Grace  Roseberry  had  spoken  more  insultingly  to  her  of  Ju- 
lian than  Horace  was  speaking  now.  "  Whoever  says  that 
of  Mr.  Julian  Gray,  lies  !"  she  answered,  warmly. 

"  Then  Lady  Janet  lies,"  Horace  retorted. 

"  Lady  Janet  never  said  it !  Lady  Janet  is  incapable  of 
saying  it !" 

"  She  may  not  have  said  it  in  so  many  words ;  but  she  nev- 
er denied  it  when  /said  it.  I  reminded  her  of  the  time  when 
Julian  Gray  first  heard  from  me  that  I  was  going  to  marry 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN".  255 

you  :  lie  was  so  overwhelmed  that  he  was  barely  capable  of 
being  civil  to  me.  Lady  Janet  \vas  present,  and  could  not 
deny  it.  I  asked  her  if  she  had  observed,  since  then,  signs 
of  a  confidential  understanding  between  you  two.  She  could 
not  deny  the  signs.  I  asked  if  she  had  ever  found  you  two 
together.  She  could  not  deny  that  she  had  found  you  to- 
gether, this  very  day,  under  circumstances  which  justified 
suspicion.  Yes !  yes  !  Look  as  angry  as  you  like !  you 
don't  know  what  has  been  going  on  up  stairs.  Lady  Jauet  is 
bent  on  breaking  off  our  engagement — and  Julian  Gray  is  at 
the  bottom  of  it." 

As  to  Julian,  Horace  was  utterly  wrong.  But  as  to  Lady 
Janet,  he  echoed  the  warning  words  which  Julian  himself 
had  spoken  to  Mercy.  She  was  staggered,  but  she  still  held 
to  her  own  opinion.  "  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  said,  firmly. 

He  advanced  a  step,  and  fixed  his  angry  eyes  on  her 
searchingly. 

"  Do  you  know  why  Lady  Janet  sent  for  me  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  will  tell  you.  Lady  Janet  is  a  staunch  friend  of 
yours,  there  is  no  denying  that.  She  wished  to  inform  me 
that  she  had  altered  her  mind  about  your  promised  explana- 
tion of,  your  conduct.  She  said,  '  Reflection  has  convinced 
me  that  no  explanation  is  required ;  I  have  laid  my  positive 
commands  on  my  adopted  daughter  that  no  explanation  shall 
take  place.'  Has  she  done  that  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Now  observe  !  I  waited  till  she  had  finished,  and  then 
I  said, '  What  have  I  to  do  with  this  ?'  Lady  Janet  has  one 
merit  —  she  speaks  out.  'You  are  to  do  as  I  do,'  she  an- 
swered. 'You  are  to  consider  that  no  explanation  is  re- 
quired, and  you  are  to  consign  the  whole  matter  to  oblivion 
from  this  time  forth.'  'Are  you  serious?'  I  asked.  'Quite 
serious.'  'In  that  case  I  have  to  inform  your  ladyship  that 
you  insist  on  more  than  you  may  suppose :  you  insist  on  my 


256  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

breaking  my  engagement  to  Miss  Roseberry.  Either  I  am 
to  have  the  explanation  that  she  has  promised  me,  or  I  refuse 
to  marry  her.'  How  do  you  think  Lady  Janet  took  that? 
She  shut  up  her  lips,  and  she  spread  out  her  hands,  and  she 
looked  at  me  as  much  as  to  say, '  Just  as  you  please !  Refuse 
if  you  like  ;  it's  nothing  to  me !'  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  Mercy  remained  silent,  on  her 
side :  she  foresaw  what  was  coming.  Mistaken  in  supposing 
that  Horace  had  left  the  house,  Julian  had,  beyond  all  doubt, 
been  equally  in  error  in  concluding  that  he  had  been  en- 
trapped into  breaking  off  the  engagement  up  stairs. 

"  Do  you  understand  me  so  far  ?"  Horace  asked. 

"  I  understand  you  perfectly." 

"  I  will  not  trouble  you  much  longer,"  he  resumed.  "  I 
said  to  Lady  Janet,  'Be  so  good  as  to  answer  me  in  plain 
words.  Do  you  still  insist  on  closing  Miss  Roseberry's  lips  ?' 
'  I  still  insist,'  she  answered.  '  No  explanation  is  required. 
If  you  are  base  enough  to  suspect  your  betrothed  wife,  I  am 
just  enough  to  believe  in  my  adopted  daughter.'  I  replied — 
and  I  beg  you  will  give  your  best  attention  to  what  I  am 
now  going  to  say — I  replied  to  that,  '  It  is  not  fair  to  charge 
me  with  suspecting  her.  I  don't  understand  her  confidential 
relations  with  Julian  Gray,  and  I  don't  understand  her  lan- 
guage and  conduct  in  the  presence  of  the  police  officer.  I 
claim  it  as  my  right  to  be  satisfied  on  both  those  points — in 
the  character  of  the  man  who  is  to  marry  her.'  There  was 
my  answer.  I  spare  you  all  that  followed.  I  only  repeat 
what  I  said  to  Lady  Janet.  She  has  commanded  you  to  be 
silent.  If  you  obey  her  commands,  I  owe  it  to  myself  and  I 
owe  it  to  my  family  to  release  you  from  your  engagement. 
Choose  between  your  duty  to  Lady  Janet  and  your  duty  to 
Me." 

He  had  mastered  his  temper  at  last :  he  spoke  with  dignity, 
and  he  spoke  to  the  point.  His  position  was  unassailable ; 
he  claimed  nothing  but  his  right. 


TIIK    NJBW    MAGDALEX.  257 

"  My  choice  was  made,"  Mercy  answered,  "  when  I  gave 
you  ray  promise  u]>  stairs." 

She  waited  a  little,  struggling  to  control  herself  on  the 
brink  of  the  terrible  revelation  that  was  coming.  Her  eyes 
dropped  before  his;  her  heart  beat  faster  and  faster;  but  she 
struggled  bravely.  With  a  desperate  courage  she  faced  the 
position.  "If  you  are  ready  to  listen,"  she  went  on,  "I  am 
ready  to  tell  you  why  I  insisted  on  having  the  police  officer 
sent  out  of  the  house." 

Horace  held  up  his  hand  warningly. 

"  Stop  !"  he  said  ;  "  that  is  not  all." 

His  infatuated  jealousy  of  Julian  (fatally  misinterpreting 
her  agitation)  distrusted  her  at  the  very  outset.  She  had 
limited  herself  to  clearing  up  the  one  question  of  her  inter- 
ference with  the  officer  of  justice.  The  other  question  of  her 
relations  with  Julian  she  had  deliberately  passed  over.  Hor- 
ace instantly  drew  his  own  ungenerous  conclusion. 

"  Let  us  not  misunderstand  one  another,"  he  said.  "  The 
explanation  of  your  conduct  in  the  other  room  is  only  one  of 
the  explanations  which  you  owe  me.  You  have  something 
else  to  account  for.  Let  us  begin  with  that,  if  you  please." 

She  looked  at  him  in  unaffected  surprise. 

"  What  else  have  I  to  account  for  ?"  she  asked. 

He  again  repeated  his  reply  to  Lady  Janet. 

"  I  have  told  you  already,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  understand 
your  confidential  relations  with  Julian  Gray." 

Mercy's  color  rose ;  Mercy's  eyes  began  to  brighten. 

"  Don't  return  to  that !"  she  cried,  with  an  irrepressible  out- 
break of  disgust.  "  Don't,  for  God's  sake,  make  me  despise 
you  at  such  a  moment  as  this  !" 

His  obstinacy  only  gathered  fresh  encouragement  from  that 
appeal  to  his  better  sense. 

"  I  insist  on  returning  to  it." 

She  had  resolved  to  bear  any  thing  from  him  —  as  her  fit 

punishment  for  the  deception  of  which  she  had  been  guilty. 
12 


258  THE    NEW    MAGDALTCX. 

But  it  was  not  in  womanhood  (at  the  moment  when  the  first 
words  of  her  confession  were  trembling  on  her  lips)  to  endure 
Horace's  unworthy  suspicion  of  her.  She  rose  from  her  seat 
and  met  his  eye  firmly. 

"I  refuse  to  degrade  myself,  and  to  degrade  Mr.  Julian 
Gray,  by  answering  you,"  she  said. 

"Consider  what  you  are  doing,"  he  rejoined.  "Change 
your  mind,  before  it  is  too  late  !" 

"  You  have  had  my  reply." 

Those  resolute  words,  that  steady  resistance,  seemed  to  in- 
furiate him.  He  caught  her  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"  You  are  as  false  as  hell !"  he  cried.  "  It's  all  over  be- 
tween you  and  me !" 

The  loud  threatening  tone  in  which  he  had  spoken  penetra- 
ted through  the  closed  door  of  the  dining-room.  The  door 
instantly  opened.  Julian  returned  to  the  library. 

He  had  just  set  foot  in  the  room,  when  there  was  a  knock 
at  the  other  door — the  door  that  opened  on  the  hall.  One  of 
the  men-servants  appeared,  with  a  telegraphic  message  in  his 
hand.  Mercy  was  the  first  to  see  it.  It  was  the  Matron's 
answer  to  the  letter  which  she  had  sent  to  the  Refuge. 

"  For  Mr.  Julian  Gray  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  miss." 

"  Give  it  to  me." 

She  signed  to  the  man  to  withdraw,  and  herself  gave  the 
telegram  to  Julian.  "  It  is  addressed  to  you,  at  my  request," 
she  said.  "  You  will  recognize  the  name  of  the  person  who 
sends  it,  and  you  will  find  a  message  in  it  for  me." 

Horace  interfered  before  Julian  could  open  the  telegram. 

"Another  private  understanding  between  you!''  he  said. 
"  Give  me  that  telegram." 

Julian  looked  at  him  with  quiet  contempt. 

"  It  is  directed  to  Me,"  he  answered — and  opened  the  en- 
velope. 

The  message  inside  was  expressed  in  these  terms :  "  I  am 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN".  259 

as  deeply  interested  in  her  as  you  are.  Say  that  I  have  re- 
ceived her  letter,  and  that  I  welcome  her  back  to  the  Refuge 
with  all  my  heart.  I  have  business  this  evening  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  will  call  for  her  myself  at  Mablethorpc  House." 

The  message  explained  itself.  Of  her  own  free-will  she 
had  made  the  expiation  complete !  Of  her  own  free-will  she 
was  going  back  to  the  martyrdom  of  her  old  life !  Bound  as 
he  knew  himself  to  be  to  let  no  compromising  word  or  action 
escape  him  in  the  presence  of  Horace,  the  irrepressible  ex- 
pression of  Julian's  admiration  glowed  in  his  eyes  as  they 
rested  on  Mercy.  Horace  detected  the  look.  He  sprang  for- 
ward and  tried  to  snatch  the  telegram  out  of  Julian's  hand. 

"  Give  it  to  me  !"  he  said.     "  I  will  have  it !" 

Julian  silently  put  him  back  at  arms-length. 

Maddened  with  rage,  he  lifted  his  hand  threateningly. 
"  Give  it  to  me !"  he  repeated  between  his  set  teeth, "  or  it 
will  be  the  worse  for  you  !" 

"  Give  it  to  me  /"  said  Mercy,  suddenly  placing  herself  be- 
tween them. 

Julian  gave  it.  She  turned,  and  offered  it  to  Horace,  look- 
ing at  him  with  a  steady  eye,  holding  it  out  to  him  with  a 
steady  hand. 

"  Read  it,"  she  said. 

Julian's  generous  nature  pitied  the  man  who  had  insulted 
him.  Julian's  great  heart  only  remembered  the  friend  of 
former  times. 

"Spare  him!"  he  said  to  Mercy.  "Remember  he  is  un- 
prepared." 

She  neither  answered  nor  moved.  Nothing  stirred  the 
horrible  torpor  of  her  resignation  to  her  fate.  She  knew 
that  the  time  had  come. 

Julian  appealed  to  Horace. 

"  Don't  read  it !"  he  cried.  "  Hear  what  she  has  to  say  to 
you  first !" 

Horace's  hand  answered  him   with  a  contemptuous  ges- 


260  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

tu re.  Horace's  eyes  devoured,  word  by  word,  the  Matron's 
message. 

He  looked  up  when  he  had  read  it  through.  There  was  a 
ghastly  change  in  his  face  as  he  turned  it  on  Mercy. 

She  stood  between  the  two  men  like  a  statue.  The  life  in 
her  seemed  to  have  died  out,  except  in  her  eyes.  Her  eyes 
rested  on  Horace  with  a  steady,  glittering  calmness. 

The  silence  was  only  broken  by  the  low  murmuring  of  Ju- 
lian's voice.  His  face  was  hidden  in  his  hands — he  was  pray- 
ing for  them. 

Horace  spoke,  laying  his  finger  on  the  telegram.  His  voice 
had  changed  with  the  change  in  his  face.  The  tone  was  low 

O  o 

and  trembling:  no  one  would  have  recognized  it  as  the  tone 
of  Horace's  voice. 

"  What  does  this  mean  ?"  he  said  to  Mercy.  "  It  can't  be 
for  you  ?" 

"  It  is  for  me." 

"  What  have  You  to  do  with  a  Refuge  ?" 

Without  a  change  in  her  face,  without  a  movement  in  her 
limbs, she  spoke  the  fatal  words: 

"  I  have  corne  from  a  Refuge,  and  I  am  going  back  to  a 
Refuge.  Mr.  Horace  Holmcroft,  I  am  Mercy  Merrick." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

GREAT    HEART    AND    LITTLE    HEART. 

THERE  was  a  pause. 

The  moments  passed  —  and  not  one  of  the  three  moved. 
The  moments  passed — and  not  one  of  the  three  spoke.  In- 
sensibly the  words  of  supplication  died  away  on  Julian's  lips. 
Even  his  energy  failed  to  sustain  him,  tried  as  it  now  was  by 
the  crushing  oppression  of  suspense.  The  first  trifling  move- 
ment which  suggested  the  idea  of  change,  and  which  so 
brought  with  it  the  first  vague  sense  of  relief,  came  from  Mer- 


TIIK    XKVV    MAGDALEN.  261 

cy.  Incapable  of  sustaining  the  prolonged  effort  of  standing, 
she  drew  back  a  little  and  took  a  chair.  No  outward  mani- 
festation of  emotion  escaped  her.  There  she  sat — with  the 
death-like  torpor  of  resignation  in  her  face — waiting  her  sen- 
tence in  silence  from  the  man  at  whom  she  had  hurled  the 
whole  terrible  confession  of  the  truth  in  one  sentence ! 

Julian  lifted  his  head  as  she  moved.  He  looked  at  Horace, 
and  advancing  a  few  steps,  looked  again.  There  was  fear  in 
his  face,  as  he  suddenly  turned  it  toward  Mercy. 

"  Speak  to  him  !"  he  said,  in  a  whisper.  "  Rouse  him,  be- 
fore it's  too  late  !" 

She  moved  mechanically  in  her  chair;  she  looked  mechan- 
ically at  Julian. 

"  What  more  have  I  to  say  to  him  ?"  she  asked,  in  faint, 
weary  tones.  "  Did  I  not  tell  him  every  thing  when  I  told 
him  my  name?" 

The  natural  sound  of  her  voice  might  have  failed  to  affect 
Horace.  The  altered  sound  of  it  roused  him.  He  approached 
Mercy's  chair,  with  a  dull  surprise  in  his  face,  and  put  his 
hand,  in  a  weak,  wavering  way  on  her  shoulder.  In  that  po- 
sition he  stood  for  a  while,  looking  down  at  her  in  silence. 

The  one  idea  in  him  that  found  its  way  outward  to  expres- 
sion was  the  idea  of  Julian.  Without  moving  his  hand,  with- 
out looking  up  from  Mercy,  he  spoke  for  the  first  time  since 
the  shock  had  fallen  on  him. 

"Where  is  Julian  ?"  he  asked,  very  quietly. 

"  I  am  here,  Horace — close  by  you." 

"  Will  you  do  me  a  service  ?" 

"Certainly.     How  can  I  help  you?" 

He  considered  a  little  before  he  replied.  His  hand  left 
Mercy's  shoulder,  and  went  up  to  his  head — then  dropped  at 
his  side.  His  next  words  were  spoken  in  a  sadly  helpless,  be- 
wildered way. 

"  I  have  an  idea,  Julian,  that  I  have  been  somehow  to  blame. 
I  said  some  hard  words  to  you.  It  was  a  little  while  since. 


262  THE   NEW    MAGDALEN. 

I  don't  clearly  remember  what  it  was  all  about.  My  temper 
has  been  a  good  deal  tried  in  this  house ;  I  have  never  been 
used  to  the  sort  of  thing  that  goes  on  here — secrets  and  mys- 
teries, and  hateful  low-lived  quarrels.  We  have  no  secrets 
and  mysteries  at  home.  And  as  for  quarrels — ridiculous! 
My  mother  and  my  sisters  are  highly  bred  women  (you  know 
them) ;  gentlewomen,  in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  When 
I  am  with  them  I  have  no  anxieties.  I  am  not  harassed  at 
home  by  doubts  of  who  people  are,  and  confusion  about 
names,  and  so  on.  I  suspect  the  contrast  weighs  a  little  on 
my  mind,  and  upsets  it.  They  make  me  oversuspicious 
among  them  here,  and  it  ends  in  my  feeling  doubts  and  fears 
that  I  can't  get  over :  doubts  about  you  and  fears  about  my- 
self. I  have  got  a  fear  about  myself  now.  I  want  you  to 
help  me.  Shall  I  make  an  apology  first  ?" 

"  Don't  say  a  word.     Tell  me  what  I  can  do." 

He  turned  his  face  toward  Julian  for  the  first  time. 

"Just  look  at  me,"  he  said.  "Does  it  strike  you  that  I  am 
at  all  wrong  in  my  mind  ?  Tell  me  the  truth,  old  fellow." 

"  Your  nerves  are  a  little  shaken,  Horace.    Nothing  more." 

He  considered  again  after  that  reply,  his  eyes  remaining 
anxiously  fixed  on  Julian's  face. 

"My  nerves  are  a  little  shaken,"  he  repeated.  "That  is 
true;  I  feel  they  are  shaken.  I  should  like,  if  you  don't 
mind,  to  make  sure  that  it's  no  worse.  Will  you  help  me  to 
try  if  my  memory  is  all  right  ?" 

"  I  will  do  any  thing  you  like." 

"Ah!  you  are  a  good  fellow,  Julian — and  a  clear-headed 
fellow  too,  which  is  very  important  just  now.  Look  here  !  I 
say  it's  about  a  week  since  the  troubles  began  in  this  house. 
Do  you  say  so  too  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"The  troubles  came  in  with  the  coming  of  a  woman  from 
Germany,  a  stranger  to  us,  who  behaved  very  violently  in  the 
dining-room  there.  Am  I  right,  so  far  ?" 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  263 

'<  Quite  right." 

"The  woman  carried  matters  with  a  high  hand.  She 
claimed  Colonel  Roseberry — no,  I  wish  to  be  strictly  accurate 
— she  claimed  the  late  Colonel  Roseberry  as  her  father.  She 
told  a  tiresome  story  about  her  having  been  robbed  of  her 
papers  and  her  name  by  an  impostor  who  had  personated  her. 
She  said  the  name  of  the  impostor  was  Mercy  Merrick.  And 
she  afterward  put  the  climax  to  it  all :  she  pointed  to  the  lady 
who  is  engaged  to  be  my  wife,  and  declared  that  she  was 
Mercy  Merrick.  Tell  me  again,  is  that  right  or  wrong  ?" 

Julian  answered  him  as  before.  He  went  on,  speaking 
more  confidently  and  more  excitedly  than  he  had  spoken  yet. 

"  Now  attend  to  this,  Julian.  I  am  going  to  pass  from  my 
memory  of  what  happened  a  week  ago  to  my  memory  of 
what  happened  five  minutes  since.  You  were  present;  I 
want  to  know  if  you  heard  it  too."  He  paused,  and,  with- 
out taking  his  eyes  off  Julian,  pointed  backward  to  Mercy. 
"  There  is  the  lady  who  is  engaged -to  marry  me,"  he  resumed. 
"  Did  I,  or  did  I  not,  hear  her  say  that  she  had  come  out  of 
a  Refuge,  and  that  she  was  going  back  to  a  Refuge  ?  Did 
I,  or  did  I  not,  hear  her  own  to  my  face  that  her  name  was 
Mercy  Merrick?  Answer  me,  Julian.  My  good  friend,  an-, 
swer  me,  for  the  sake  of  old  times." 

His  voice  faltered  as  he  spoke  those  imploring  words.  Un- 
der the  dull  blank  of  his  face  there  appeared  the  first  signs 
of  emotion  slowly  forcing  its  way  outward.  The  stunned 
mind  was  reviving  faintly.  Julian  saw  his  opportunity  of 
aiding  the  recovery,  and  seized  it.*  He  took  Horace  gently 
by  the  arm,  and  pointed  to  Mercy. 

"There  is  your  answer!"  he  said.  "Look! — and  pity 
her." 

She  had  not  once  interrupted  them  while  they  had  been 
speaking :  she  had  changed  her  position  again,  and  that  was 
all.  There  was  a  writing-table  at  the  side  of  her  chair ;  her 
rmtstretched  arms  rested  on  it.  Her  head  had  dropped  on 


264  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

her  arms,  and  her  face  was  hidden.  Julian's  judgment  had 
not  misled  him  ;  the  utter  self-abandonment  of  her  attitude 
answered  Horace  as  no  human  language  could  have  answered 
him.  He  looked  at  her.  A  quick  spasm  of  pain  passed 
across  his  face.  He  turned  once  more  to  the  faithful  friend 
who  had  forgiven  him.  His  head  fell  on  Julian's  shoulder, 
and  he  burst  into  tears. 

Mercy  started  wildly  to  her  feet,  and  looked  at  the  two 
men. 

"  O  God  !"  she  cried, "  what  have  I  done !" 

Julian  quieted  her  by  a  motion  of  his  hand. 

"You  have  helped  me  to  save  him,"  he  said.  "Let  his 
tears  have  their  way.  Wait." 

He  put  one  arm  round  Horace  to  support  him.  The  man- 
ly tenderness  of  the  action,  the  complete  and  noble  pardon  of 
past  injuries  which  it  implied,  touched  Mercy  to  the  heart. 
She  went  back  to  her  chair.  Again  shame  and  sorrow  over- 
powered her,  and  again  she  hid  her  face  from  view. 

Julian  led  Horace  to  a  seat,  and  silently  waited  by  him 
until  he  had  recovered  his  self-control.  He  gratefully  took 
the  kind  hand  that  had  sustained  him :  he  said,  simply,  al- 
most boyishly, "  Thank  you,  Julian.  I  am  better  now." 

"Are  you  composed  enough  to  listen  to  what  is  said  to 
you  ?"  Julian  asked. 

"  Yes.     Do  you  wish  to  speak  to  me  ?" 

Julian  left  him  without  immediately  replying,  and  returned 
to  Mercy. 

"  The  time  has  come,'*-  he  said.  "  Tell  him  all — truly,  un- 
reservedly, as  you  would  tell  it  to  me." 

She  shuddered  as  he  spoke.  "Have  I  not  told  him 
enough  ?"  she  asked.  "  Do  you  want  me  to  break  his  heart  ? 
Look  at  him  !  Look  what  I  have  done  already  !" 

Horace  shrank  from  the  ordeal  as  Mercy  shrank  from  it. 

"  No,  no  !  I  can't  listen  to  it !  I  daren't  listen  to  it !"  he 
cried,  and  rose  to  leave  the  room. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  265 

Julian  had  taken  the  good  work  in  hand :  he  never  faltered 
over  it  for  an  instant.  Horace  had  loved  her — how  dearly 
Julian  now  knew  for  the  first  time.  The  bare  possibility 
that  she  might  earn  her  pardon  if  she  was  allowed  to  plead 
her  own  cause  was  a  possibility  still  left.  To  let  her  win  on 
Horace  to  forgive  her,  was  death  to  the  love  that  still  filled 
his  heart  in  secret.  But  he  never  hesitated.  With  a  resolu- 
tion which  the  weaker  man  was  powerless  to  resist,  he  took 
him  by  the  arm,  and  led  him  back  to  his  place. 

"  For  her  sake,  and  for  your  sake,  you  shall  not  condemn 
hef  unheard,"  he  said  to  Horace,  firmly.  "One  temptation 
to  deceive  you  after  another  has  tried  her,  and  she  has  re- 
sisted them  all.  With  no  discovery  to  fear,  with  a  letter 
from  the  benefactress  who  loves  her  commanding  her  to  be 
silent,  with  every  thing  that  a  woman  values  in  this  world  to 
lose,  if  she  owns  what  she  has  done  —  this  woman,  for  the 
truth's  sake,  has  spoken  the  truth.  Docs  she  deserve  noth- 
ing at  your  hands  in  return  for  that?  Respect  her,  Horace 
— and  hear  her." 

Horace  yielded.     Julian  turned  to  Mercy. 

"You  have  allowed  me  to  guide  you  so  far,"  he  said. 
"  Will  you  allow  me  to  guide  you  still  ?" 

Her  eyes  sank  before  his ;  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  rapidly. 
His  influence  over  her  maintained  its  sway.  She  bowed  her 
head  in  speechless  submission. 

"  Tell  him,"  Julian  proceeded,  in  accents  of  entreaty,  not 
of  command—"  tell  him  what  your  life  has  been.  Tell  him 
how  you  were  tried  and  tempted,  with  no  friend  near  to  speak 
the  words  which  might  have  saved  you.  And  then,"  he  add- 
ed, raising  her  from  the  chair,  "  let  him  judge  you — if  he 
can  !" 

He  attempted  to  lead  her  across  the  room  to  the  place 
which  Horace  occupied.  But  her  submission  had  its  limits. 
Half-way  to  the  place  she  stopped,  and  refused  to  go  farther. 
Julian  offered  her  a  chair.  She  declined  to  take  it.  Stand- 

12* 


266  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

ing  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  she  waited  for 
the  word  from  Hoi-ace  which  would  permit  her  to  speak. 
She  was  resigned  to  the  ordeal.  Her  face  was  calm ;  her 
mind  was  clear.  The  hardest  of  all  humiliations  to  endure — 
the  humiliation  of  acknowledging  her  name — she  had  passed 
through.  Nothing  remained  but  to  show  her  gratitude  to 
Julian  by  acceding  to  his  wishes,  and  to  ask  pardon  of  Hor- 
ace before  they  parted  forever.  In  a  little  while  the  Matron 
would  arrive  at  the  house — and  then  it  would  be  over. 

Unwillingly  Horace  looked  at  her.  Their  eyes  met.  He 
broke  out  suddenly  with  something  of  his  former  violence. 

"I  can't  realize  it  even  now  !"  he  cried.  "Is  it  true  that 
you  are  not  Grace  Roseberry  ?  Don't  look  at  me  !  Say  in 
one  word — Yes  or  No  !" 

She  answered  him,  humbly  and  sadly, "  Yes." 

"  You  have  done  what  that  woman  accused  you  of  doing  ? 
Am  I  to  believe  that  ?" 

"  You  are  to  believe  it,  sir." 

All  the  weakness  of  Horace's  character  disclosed  itself  when 
she  made  that  reply. 

"  Infamous  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  What  excuse  can  you  make 
for  the  cruel  deception  you  have  practiced  on  me  ?  Too  bad  ! 
too  bad  !  There  can  be  no  excuse  for  you  !" 

She  accepted  his  reproaches  with  unshaken  resignation. 
"  I  have  deserved  it  !•"  was  all  she  said  to  herself, "  I  have 
deserved  it !" 

Julian  interposed  once  more  in  Mercy's  defense. 

"  Wait  till  you  are  sure  there  is  no  excuse  for  her,  Horace," 
he  said,  quietly.  "  Grant  her  justice,  if  you  can  grant  no 
more.  I  leave  you  together." 

He  advanced  toward  the  door  of  the  dining-room.  Hor- 
ace's weakness  disclosed  itself  once  more. 

"  Don't  leave  me  alone  with  her  !"  he  burst  out.  "  The  mis- 
cry  of  it  is  more  than  I  can  bear  !" 

Julian  looked  at  Mercy.    Her  face  brightened  faintly.    That 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  267 

momentary  expression  of  relief  told  him  how  truly  he  would 
be  befriending  her  if  he  consented  to  remain  in  the  room.  A 
position  of  retirement  was  offered  to  him  by  a  recess  formed 
by  the  central  bay-window  of  the  library.  If  he  occupied  this 
place,  they  could  see  or  not  see  that  he  was  present,  as  their 
own  inclinations  might  decide  them. 

"  I  will  stay  with  you,  Horace,  as  long  as  you  wish  me  to 
be  here."  Having  answered  in  those  terms,  he  stopped  as  he 
passed  Mercy,  on  his  way  to  the  window.  His  quick  and 
kindly  insight  told  him  that  he  might  still  be  of  some  service 
to  her.  A  hint  from  him  might  show  her  the  shortest  and 
the  easiest  way  of  making  her  confession.  Delicately  and 
briefly  he  gave  her  the  hint.  "  The  first  time  I  met  you,"  he 
said,  "  I  saw  that  your  life  had  had  its  troubles.  Let  us  hear 
how  those  troubles  began." 

He  withdrew  to  his  place  in  the  recess.  For  the  first  time, 
since  the  fatal  evening  when  she  and  Grace  Roseberry  had 
met  in  the  French  cottage,  Mercy  Merrick  looked  back  into 
the  purgatory  on  earth  of  her  past  life,  and  told  her  sad  story 
simply  and  truly  in  these  words. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

MAGDALEN'S  APPRENTICESHIP. 

"  MR.  JULIAN  GRAY  has  asked  me  to  tell  him,  and  to  tell 
you,  Mr.  Holmcroft,  how  my  troubles  began.  They  began 
before  my  recollection.  They  began  with  my  birth. 

"My  mother  (as  I  have  heard  her  say)  ruined  her  pros- 
pects, when  she  was  quite  a  young  girl,  by  a  marriage  with 
one  of  her  father's  servants — the  groom  who  rode  out  with 
her.  She  suffered,  poor  creature,  the  usual  penalty  of  such 
conduct  as  hers.  After  a  short  time  she  and  her  husband 
were  separated — on  the  condition  of  her  sacrificing  to  the 


268  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

man  whom  she  had  married  the  whole  of  the  little  fortune 
that  she  "possessed  in  her  own  right. 

"  Gaining  her  freedom,  my  mother  had  to  gain  her  daily 
bread  next.  Her  family  refused  to  take  her  back.  She  at- 
tached herself  to  a  company  of  strolling  players. 

"  She  was  earning  a  bare  living  in  this  way,  when  my  fa- 
ther accidentally  met  with  her.  He  was  a  man  of  high  rank, 
proud  of  his  position,  and  well  known  in  the  society  of  that 
time  for  his  many  accomplishments  and  his  refined  tastes. 
My  mother's  beauty  fascinated  him.  He  took  her  from  the 
strolling  players,  and  surrounded  her  with  every  luxury  that 
a  woman  could  desire  in  a  house  of  her  own. 

"  I  don't  know  how  long  they  lived  together.  I  only  know 
that  my  father,  at  the  time  of  my  first  recollections,  had  aban- 
doned her.  She  had  excited  his  suspicions  of  her  fidelity — 
suspicions  which  cruelly  wronged  her,  as  she  declared  to 
her  dying  day.  I  believed  her,  because  she  was  my  moth- 
er. But  I  can  not  expect  others  to  do  as  I  did  —  I  can 
only  repeat  what  she  said.  My  father  left  her  absolute- 
ly penniless.  He  never  saw  her  again ;  and  he  refused 
to  go  to  her  when  she  sent  to  him  in  her  last  moments  on 
earth. 

"She  was  back  again  among  the  strolling  players  when  I 
first  remember  her.  It  was  not  an  unhappy  time  for  me.  I 
was  the  favorite  pet  and  plaything  of  the  poor  actors.  They 
taught  me  to  sing  and  to  dance  at  an  age  when  other  children 
are  just  beginning  to  learn  to  read.  At  five  years  old  I  was 
in  what  is  called  '  the  profession,'  and  had  made  my  poor  lit- 
tle reputation  in  booths  at  country  fairs.  As  early  as  that, 
Mr.  Holmcroft,  I  had  begun  to  live  under  an  assumed  name — 
the  prettiest  name  they  could  invent  for  me '  to  look  well  in 
the  bills.'  It  was  sometimes  a  hard  struggle  for  us,  in  bad 
seasons,  to  keep  body  and  soul  together.  Learning  to  sing 
and  dance  in  public  often  meant  learning  to  bear  hunger  and 
cold  in  private,  when  I  was  apprenticed  to  the  stage.  And 


THE    XEW   MAGDALEN.  269 

yet  I  have  lived  to  look  back  on  my  days  with  the  strolling 
players  as  the  happiest  days  of  my  life ! 

"  I  was  ten  years  old  when  the  first  serious  misfortune  that 
I  can  remember  fell  upon  me.  My  mother  died,  worn  out  in 
the  prime  of  her  life.  And  not  long  afterward  the  strolling 
company,  brought  to  the  end  of  its  resources  by  a  succession 
of  bad  seasons,  was  broken  up. 

"  I  was  left  on  the  world,  a  nameless,  penniless  outcast,  with 
one  fatal  inheritance — God  knows,  I  can  speak  of  it  without 
vanity,  after  what  I  have  gone  through  ! — the  inheritance  of 
my  mother's  beauty. 

"  My  only  friends  were  the  poor  starved-out  players.  Two 
of  them  (husband  and  wife)  obtained  engagements  in  another 
company,  and  I  was  included  in  the  bargain.  The  new  man- 
ager by  whom  I  was  employed  was  a  drunkard  and  a  brute. 
One  night  I  made  a  trifling  mistake  in  the  course  of  the  per- 
formances— and  I  was  savagely  beaten  for  it.  Perhaps  I  had 
inherited  some  of  my  father's  spirit — without,  I  hope,  also  in- 
heriting my  father's  pitiless  nature.  However  that  may  be,  I 
resolved  (no  matter  what  became  of  me)  never  again  to  serve 
the  man  who  had  beaten  me.  I  unlocked  the  door  of  our 
miserable  lodging  at  day-break  the  next  morning ;  and,  at  ten 
years  old,  with  my  little  bundle  in  my  hand,  I  faced  the  world 
alone. 

"  My  mother  had  confided  to  me,  in  her  last  moments,  my 
father's  name  and  the  address  of  his  house  in  London.  '  He 
may  feel  some  compassion  for  you '  (she  said),  '  though  he 
feels  none  for  me:  try  him.'  I  had  a  few  shillings,  the  last 
pitiful  remains  of  my  wages,  in  my  pocket ;  and  I  was  not  far 
from  London.  But  I  never  went  near  my  father :  child  as  I 
was,  I  would  have  starved  and  died  rather  than  go  to  him. 
I  had  loved  my  mother  dearly ;  and  I  hated  the  man  who 
had  turned  his  back  on  her  when  she  lay  on  her  death-bed. 
It  made  no  difference  to  Me  that  he  happened  to  be  my 
father. 


270  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Does  this  confession  revolt  you  ?  You  look  at  me,  Mr. 
Holmcroft,  as  if  it  did. 

"Think  a  little, sir.  Does  what  I  have  just  said  condemn 
me  as  a  heartless  creature,  even  in  my  earliest  years  ?  What 
is  a  father  to  a  child — when  the  child  has  never  sat  on  his 
knee,  and  never  had  a  kiss  or  a  present  from  him  ?  If  we  had 
met  in  the  street,  we  should  not  have  known  each  other. 
Perhaps  in  after-days,  when  I  was  starving  in  London,  I  may 
have  begged  of  my  father  without  knowing  it ;  and  he  may 
have  thrown  his  daughter  a  penny  to  get  rid  of  her,  without 
knowing  it  either !  What  is  there  sacred  in  the  relations  be- 
tween father  and  child,  when  they  are  such  relations  as  these  ? 
Even  the  flowers  of  the  field  can  not  grow  without  light  and 
air  to  help  them  !  How  is  a  child's  love  to  grow,  with  noth- 
ing to  help  it? 

"  My  small  savings  would  have  been  soon  exhausted,  even 
if  I  had  been  old  enough  and  strong  enough  to  protect  them 
myself.  As  things  were,  my  few  shillings  were  taken  from 
me  by  gypsies.  I  had  no  reason  to  complain.  They  gave  me 
food  and  the  shelter  of  their  tents,  and  they  made  me  of  use 
to  them  in  various  ways.  After  a  while  hard  times  came  to 
the  gypsies,  as  they  had  come  to  the  strolling  players.  Some 
of  them  were  imprisoned ;  the  rest  were  dispersed.  It  was 
the  season  for  hop-gathering  at  the  time.  I  got  employment 
among  the  hop-pickers  next ;  and  that  done,  I  went  to  Lon- 
don with  my  new  friends. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  weary  and  pain  you  by  dwelling  on  this 
part  of  my  childhood  in  detail.  It  will  be  enough  if  I  tell  you 
that  I  sank  lower  and  lower  until  I  ended  in  selling  matches 
in  the  street.  My  mother's  legacy  got  me  many  a  sixpence 
which  my  matches  would  never  have  charmed  out  of  the 
pockets  of  strangers  if  I  had  been  an  ugly  child.  My  face, 
which  was  destined  to  be  my  greatest  misfortune  in  after- 
years,  was  my  best  friend  in  those  days. 

"  Is  there  any  thing,  Mr.  Holmcroft,  in  the  life  I  am  now 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  271 

trying  to  describe  which  reminds  you  of  a  day  when  we  were 
out  walking  together  not  long  since  ? 

"I  surprised  and  offended  you,  I  remember;  and  it  was 
not  possible  for  me  to  explain  my  conduct  at  the  time.  Do 
you  recollect  the  little  wandering  girl,  with  the  miserable 
faded  nosegay  in  her  hand,  who  ran  after  us,  and  begged  for 
a  half-penny  ?  I  shocked  you  by  bursting  out  crying  when 
the  child  asked  us  to  buy  her  a  bit  of  bread.  Now  you  know 
why  I  was  so  sorry  for  her.  Now  you  know  why  I  offended 
you  the  next  day  by  breaking  an  engagement  with  your  moth- 
er and  sisters,  and  going  to  see  that  child  in  her  wretched 
home.  After  what  I  have  confessed,  you  will  admit  that  my 
poor  little  sister  in  adversity  had  the  first  claim  on  me. 

"  Let  me  go  on.  I  am  sorry  if  I  have  distressed  you.  Let 
me  go  on. 

"  The  forlorn  wanderers  of  the  streets  have  (as  I  found  it) 
one  way  always  open  to  them  of  presenting  their  sufferings 
to  the  notice  of  their  rich  and  charitable  fellow -creatures. 
They  have  only  to  break  the  law — and  they  make  a  public 
appearance  in  a  court  of  justice.  If  the  circumstances  con- 
nected with  their  offense  are  of  an  interesting  kind,  they  gain 
a  second  advantage :  they  are  advertised  all  over  England  by 
a  report  in  the  newspapers. 

"  Yes !  even  jT  have  my  knowledge  of  the  law.  I  know 
that  it  completely  overlooked  me  as  long  as  I  respected  it. 
But  on  two  different  occasions  it  became  my  best  friend  when 
I  set  it  at  defiance !  My  first  fortunate  offense  was  commit- 
ted when  I  was  just  twelve  years  old. 

"  It  was  evening  time.  I  was  half  dead  with  starvation ; 
the  rain  was  falling;  the  night  was  coming  on.  I  begged — 
openly,  loudly,  as  only  a  hungry  child  can  beg.  An  old  lady 
in  a  carriage  at  a  shop  door  complained  of  my  importunity. 
The  policeman  did  his  duty.  The  law  gave  me  a  supper  and 
shelter  at  the  station-house  that  night.  I  appeared  at  the  po- 
lice court,  and,  questioned  by  the  magistrate,  I  told  my  story 


272  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

truly.  It  was  the  every-day  story  of  thousands  of  children 
like  me  ;  but  it  had  one  element  of  interest  in  it.  I  confessed 
to  having  had  a  father  (he  was  then  dead)  who  had  been  a 
man  of  rank;  and  I  owned  (just  as  openly  as  I  owned, every 
thing  else)  that  I  had  never  applied  to  him  for  help,  in  resent- 
ment of  his  treatment  of  my  mother.  This  incident  was  new, 
I  suppose;  it  led  to  the  appearance  of  my  'case'  in  the  news- 
papers. The  reporters  further  served  my  interests  by  de- 
scribing me  as  '  pretty  and  interesting.'  Subscriptions  were 
sent  to  the  court.  A  benevolent  married  couple,  in  a  respect- 
able sphere  of  life,  visited  the  work-house  to  see  me.  I  pro- 
duced a  favorable  impression  on  them— especially  on  the  wife. 
I  was  literally  friendless;  I  had  no  unwelcome  relatives  to 
follow  me  and  claim  me.  The  wife  was  childless;  the  hus- 
band was  a  good-natured  man.  It  ended  in  their  taking  me 
away  with  them  to  try  me  in  service. 

"  I  have  always  felt  the  aspiration,  no  matter  how  low  I 
may  have  fallen,  to  struggle  upward  to  a  position  above  me; 
to  rise,  in  spite  of  fortune,  superior  to  my  lot  in  life.  Perhaps 
some  of  my  father's  pride  may  be  at  the  root  of  this  rest- 
less feeling  in  me.  It  seems  to  be  a  part  of  my  nature.  It 
brought  me  into  this  house — and  it  will  go  with  me  out  of 
this  house.  Is  it  my  curse, or  my  blessing?  I  am  not  able 
to  decide. 

"  On  the  first  night  when  I  slept  in  my  ne\v  home  I  said  to 
myself, 'They  have  taken  me  to  be  their  servant:  I  will  be 
something  more  than  that— they  shall  end  in  taking  me  for 
their  child.'  Before  I  had  been  a  week  in  the  house  I  was 
the  wife's  favorite  companion  in  the  absence  of  her  husband 
at  his  place  of  business.  She  was  a  highly  accomplished 
woman,  greatly  her  husband's  superior  in  cultivation,  and,  un- 
fortunately for  herself,  also  his  superior  in  years.  The  love 
was  all  on  her  side.  Excepting  certain  occasions  on  which 
he  roused  her  jealousy,  they  lived  together  on  sufficiently 
friendly  terms.  She  was  one  of  the  many  wives  who  resign 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  273 

themselves  to  be  disappointed  in  their  husbands — and  he  was 
one  of  the  many  husbands  who  never  know  what  their  wives 
really  think  of  them.  Her  one  great  happiness  was  in  teach- 
ing me.  I  was  eager  to  learn ;  I  made  rapid  progress.  At 
my  pliant  age  I  soon  acquired  the  refinements  of  language 
and  manner  which  characterized  my  mistress.  It  is  only  the 
truth  to  say  that  the  cultivation  which  has  made  me  capable 
of  personating  a  lady  was  her  work. 

"For  three  happy  years  I  lived  under  that  friendly  roof. 
I  was  between  fifteen  and  sixteen  years  of  age,  when  the  fa- 
tal inheritance  from  my  mother  cast  its  first  shadow  on  my 
life.  One  miserable  day  the  wife's  motherly  love  for  me 
changed  in  an  instant  to  the  jealous  hatred  that  never  for- 
gives. Can  you  guess  the  reason?  The  husband  fell  in  love 
with  me. 

"I  was  innocent;  I  was  blameless.  He  owned  it  himself 
to  the  clergyman  who  was  with  him  at  his  death.  By  that 
time  years  had  passed.  It  was  too  late  to  justify  me. 

"  He  was  at  an  age  (when  I  was  under  his  care)  when  men 
are  usually  supposed  to  regard  women  with  tranquillity,  if 
not  with  indifference.  It  had  been  the  habit  of  years  with 
me  to  look  on  him  as  my  second  father.  In  my  innocent  ig- 
norance of  the  feeling  which  really  inspired  him,  I  permitted 
him  to  indulge  in  little  paternal  familiarities  with  me,  which 
inflamed  his  guilty  passion.  His  wife  discovered  him — not  I. 
No  words  can  describe  my  astonishment  and  my  horror  when 
the  first  outbreak  of  her  indignation  forced  on  me  the  knowl- 
edge of  the  truth.  On  my  knees  I  declared  myself  guiltless. 
On  my  knees  I  implored  her  to  do  justice  to  my  purity  and 
my  youth.  At  other  times  the  sweetest  and  the  most  consid- 
erate of  women,  jealousy  had  now  transformed  her  to  a  per- 
fect fury.  She  accused  me  of  deliberately  encouraging  him. 
She  declared  she  would  turn  me  out  of  the  house  with  her 
own  hands.  Like  other  easy-tempered  men,  her  husband  had 
reserves  of  auger  in  him  which  it  was  dangerous  to  provoke. 


274  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

When  his  wife  lifted  her  hand  against  me,  he  lost  all  self- 
control,  on  his  side.  He  openly  told  her  that  life  was  worth 
nothing  to  him  without  me.  He  openly  avowed  his  resolu- 
tion to  go  with  me  when  I  left  the  house.  The  maddened 
woman  seized  him  by  the  arm — I  saw  that,  and  saw  no  more. 
I  ran  out  into  the  street,  panic-stricken.  A  cab  was  passing. 
I  got  into  it  before  he  could  open  the  house  door,  and  drove 
to  the  only  place  of  refuge  I  could  think  of — a  small  shop, 
kept  by  the  widowed  sister  of  one  of  our  servants.  Here  I 
obtained  shelter  for  the  night.  The  next  day  he  discovered 
me.  He  made  his  vile  proposals ;  he  offered  me  the  whole  of 
his  fortune;  he  declared  his  resolution,  say  what  I  might, to 
return  the  next  day.  That  night,  by  help  of  the  good  woman 
who  had  taken  care  of  me — under  cover  of  the  darkness,  as  if 
I  had  been  to  blame ! — I  was  secretly  removed  to  the  East 
End  of  London,  and  placed  under  the  charge  of  a  trustworthy 
person  who  lived,  in  a  very  humble  way,  by  letting  lodgings. 

"  Here,  in  a  little  back  garret  at  the  top  of  the  house,  I  was 
thrown  again  on  the  world — at  an  age  when  it  was  doubly 
perilous  for  me  to  be  left  to  my  own  resources  to  earn  the 
bread  I  ate  and  the  roof  that  covered  me. 

"  I  claim  no  credit  to  myself — young  as  I  was,  placed  as  I 
was  between  the  easy  life  of  Vice  and  the  hard  life  of  Virtue 
— for  acting  as  I  did.  The  man  simply  horrified  me :  my 
natural  impulse  was  to  escape  from  him.  But  let  it  be  re- 
membered, before  I  approach  the  saddest  part  of  my  sad 
story,  that  I  was  an  innocent  girl,  and  that  I  Was  at  least  not 
to  blame. 

"Forgive  me  for  dwelling  as  I  have  done  on  my  early 
years.  I  shrink  from  speaking  of  the  events  that  are  still  to 
come. 

"  In  losing  the  esteem  of  my  first  benefactress  I  had,  in  my 
friendless  position,  lost  all  hold  on  an  honest  life — except  the 
one  frail  hold  of  needle-work.  The  only  reference  of  which  I 
could  now  dispose  was  the  recommendation  of  me  by  my 


THE    NEW   MAGDAiEX.  275 

landlady  to  a  place  of  business  which  largely  employed  ex- 
pert  needle-women.  It  is  needless  for  me  to  tell  you  how 
miserably  work  of  that  sort  is  remunerated  :  you  have  read 
about  it  in  the  newspapers.  As  long  as  my  health  lasted  I 
contrived  to  live  and  to  keep  out  of  debt.  Few  girls  could 
have  resisted  as  long  as  I  did  the  slowly-poisoning  influences 
of  crowded  work-rooms,  insufficient  nourishment,  and  almost 
total  privation  of  exercise.  My  life  as  a  child  had  been  a 
life  in  the  open  air :  it  had  helped  to  strengthen  a  constitu- 
tion naturally  hardy,  naturally  free  from  all  .taint  of  heredi- 
tary disease.  But  my  time  came  at  last.  Under  the  cruel 
stress  laid  on  it  my  health  gave  way.  I  was  struck  down  by 
low  fever,  and  sentence  was  pronounced  on  me  by  my  fellow- 
lodgers  :  'Ah,  poor  thing,  her  troubles  will  soon  be  at  an  end !' 

"The  prediction  might  have  proved  true — I  might  never 
have  committed  the  errors  and  endured  the  sufferings  of  af- 
ter-years— if  I  had  fallen  ill  in  another  house. 

"  But  it  was  my  good,  or  my  evil,  fortune — I  dare  not  say 
which — to  have  interested  in  myself  and  my  sorrows  an  act- 
ress at  a  suburban  theatre,  who  occupied  the  room  under 
mine.  Except  when  her  stage  duties  took  her  away  for  two 
or  three  hours  in  the  evening,  this  noble  creature  never  left 
my  bedside.  Ill  as  she  could  afford  it,  her  purse  paid  my  in- 
evitable expenses  while  I  lay  helpless.  The  landlady,  moved 
by  her  example,  accepted  half  the  weekly  rent  of  my  room. 
The  doctor,  with  the  Christian  kindness  of  his  profession, 
would  take  no  fees.  All  that  the  tenderest  care  could  accom- 
plish was  lavished  on  me  ;  my  youth  and  my  constitution  did 
the  rest.  I  struggled  back  to  life — and  then  I  took  up  my 
needle  again. 

"  It  may  surprise  you  that  I  should  have  failed  (having  an 
actress  for  my  dearest  friend)  to  use  the  means  of  introduc- 
tion thus  offered  to  me  to  try  the  stage — especially  as  my 
childish  training  hail  given  me,  in  some  small  degree,  a  famil- 
iarity with  the  Art. 


276  THE    NEW    MAGDALEX. 

"  I  had  only  one  motive  for  shrinking  from  an  appearance 
at  the  theatre — but  it  was  strong  enough  to  induce  me  to 
submit  to  any  alternative  that  remained,  no  matter  how  hope- 
less it  might  be.  If  I  showed  myself  on  the  public  stage, 
my  discovery  by  the  man  from  whom  I  had  escaped  would  be 
only  a  question  of  time.  I  knew  him  to  be  habitually  a  play- 
goer and  a  subscriber  to  a  theatrical,  newspaper.  I  had  even 
heard  him  speak  of  the  theatre  to  which  my  friend  was  at- 
tached, and  compare  it  advantageously  with  places  of  amuse- 
ment of  far  higher  pretensions.  Sooner  or  later,  if  I  joined 
the  company,  he  would  be  certain  to  go  and  see  '  the  new  act- 
ress.' The  bare  thought  of  it  reconciled  me  to  returning  to 
my  needle.  Before  I  was  strong  enough  to  endure  the  at 
mosphere  of  the  crowded  work-room  I  obtained  permission, 
as  a  favor,  to  resume  my  occupation  at  home. 

"  Surely  my  choice  was  the  choice  of  a  virtuous  girl  ?  And 
yet  the  day  when  I  returned  to  my  needle  was  the  fatal  day 
of  my  life. 

"  I  had  now  not  only  to  provide  for  the  wants  of  the  pass- 
ing hour — I  had  my  debts  to  pay.  It  was  only  to  be  done  by 
toiling  harder  than  ever,  and  by  living  more  poorly  than  ever. 
I  soon  paid  the  penalty,  in  my  weakened  state,  of  leading 
such  a  life  as  this.  One  evening  my  head  turned  suddenly 
giddy  ;  my  heart  throbbed  frightfully.  I  managed  to  open 
the  window,  and  to  let  the  fresh  air  into  the  room,  and  I  felt 
better.  But  I  was  not  sufficiently  recovered  to  be  able  to 
thread  my  needle.  I  thought  to  myself,  '  If  I  go  out  for  half 
an  hour,  a  little  exercise  may  put  me  right  again.'  I  had  not, 
as  I  suppose,  been  out  more  than  ten  minutes  when  the  at- 
tack from  which  I  had  suffered  in  my  room  was  renewed. 
There  was  no  shop  near  in  which  I  could  take  refuge.  I 
tried  to  ring  the  bell  of  the  nearest  house  door.  Before  I 
could  reach  it  I  fainted  in  the  street. 

"  How  long  hunger  and  weakness  left  me  at  the  mercy  of  the 
first  stranger  who  might  pass  by,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  say. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  277 

"When  I  partially  recovered  my  senses  T  was  conscious  of 
being  under  shelter  somewhere,  and  of  having  a  wine-glass 
containing  some  cordial  drink  held  to  my  lips  by  a  man.  I 
managed  to  swallow — I  don't  know  how  little,  or  how  much. 
The  stimulant  had  a  very  strange  effect  on  me.  Reviving 
me  at  first,  it  ended  in  stupefying  me.  I  lost  my  senses  once 
more. 

"  When  I  next  recovered  myself,  the  day  was  breaking.  I 
was  in  a  bed  in  a  strange  room.  A  nameless  terror  seized 
me.  I  called  out.  Three  or  four  women  came  in,  whose 
faces  betrayed,  even  to  my  inexperienced  eyes,  the  shameless 
infamy  of  their  lives.  I  started  up  in  the  bed.  I  implored 
them  to  tell  me  where  I  was,  and  what  had  happened — 

"  Spare  me  !  I  can  say  no  more.  Not  long  since  you 
heard  Miss  Roseberry  call  me  an  outcast  from  the  streets. 
Now  you  know — as  God  is  my  judge  I  am  speaking  the 
truth  ! — now  you  know  what  made  me  an  outcast,  and  in 
what  measure  I  deserved  my  disgrace." 

Her  voice  faltered,  her  resolution  failed  her,  for  the  first 
time. 

"  Give  me  a  few  minutes,"  she  said,  in  low,  pleading  tones. 
"If  I  try  to  go  on  now,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  cry." 

She  took  the  chair  which  Julian  had  placed  for  her,  turn- 
ing her  face  aside  so  that  neither  of  the  men  could  see  it 
One  of  her  hands  was  pressed  over  her  bosom,  the  other 
hung  listlessly  at  her  side. 

Julian  rose  from  the  place  that  he  iind  occupied.  Horace 
neither  moved  nor  spoke.  His  head  was  on  his  breast :  the 
traces  of  tears  on  his  cheeks  owned  mutely  that  she  had 
touched  his  heart.  Would  he  forgive  her?  Julian  passed 
on,  and  approached  Mercy's  chair. 

In  silence  he  took  the  hand  which  hung  at  her  side.  In 
silence  he  lifted  it  to  his  lips  and  kissed  it,  as  her  brother 
might  have  kissed  it.  She  started,  but  she  never  looked  up. 


278  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

Some  strange  fear  of  discovery  seemed  to  possess  her.  "  Hor- 
ace?" she  whispered,  timidly.  Julian  made  no  reply.  He 
went  back  to  his  place,  and  allowed  her  to  think  it  was 
Horace. 

The  sacrifice  was  immense  enough — feeling  toward  her  as 
he  felt — to  be  worthy  of  the  man  who  made  it. 

A  few  minutes  had  been  all  she  asked  for.  In  a  few  min- 
utes she  turned  toward  them  again.  Her  sweet  voice  was 
steady  once  more ;  her  eyes  rested  softly  on  Horace  as  she 
went  on. 

"  What  was  it  possible  for  a  friendless  girl  in  my  position 
to  do,  when  the  full  knowledge  of  the  outrage  had  been  re- 
vealed to  me? 

"  If  I  had  possessed  near  and  dear  relatives  to  protect  and 
advise  me,  the  wretches  into  whose  hands  I  had  fallen  might 
have  felt  the  penalty  of  the  law.  I  knew  no  more  of  the 
formalities  which  set  the  law  in  motion  than  a  child.  But 
I  had  another  alternative  (you  will  say).  Charitable  socie- 
ties would  have  received  me  and  helped  me,  if  I  had  stated 
my  case  to  them.  I  knew  no  more  of  the  charitable  societies 
than  I  knew  of  the  law.  At  least,  then,  I  might  have  gone 
back  to  the  honest  people  among  whom  I  had  lived  ?  When 
I  received  my  freedom,  after  the  interval  of  some  days,  I  was 
ashamed  to  go  back  to  the  honest  people.  Helplessly  and 
hopelessly,  without  sin  or  choice  of  mine,  I  drifted,  as  thou- 
sands of  other  women  have  drifted,  into  the  life  which  set  a 
mark  on  me  for  the  rest  of  my  days. 

"Are  you  surprised  fit  the  ignorance  which  this  confession 
reveals  ? 

"  You,  who  have  your  solicitors  to  inform  you  of  legal 
remedies,  and  your  newspapers,  circulars,  and  active  friends 
to  sound  the  praises  of  charitable  institutions  continually  in 
your  ears — you,  who  possess  these  advantages,  have  no  idea 
of  the  outer  world  of  ignorance  in  which  your  lost  fellow- 
creatures  live.  They  know  nothing  (unless  they  are  rogues 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  279 

accustomed  to  prey  on  society)  of  your  benevolent  schemes  to 
help  them.  Tlit-  purpose  of  public  charities,  and  the  way  to 
discover  and  apply  to  them,  ought  to  be  posted  at  the  corner 
of  every  street.  What  do  ice  know  of  public  dinners  and  elo- 
quent sermons  and  neatly  printed  circulars?  Every  now  and 
then  the  case  of  some  forlorn  creature  (generally  of  a  woman) 
who  has  committed  suicide,  within  five  minutes'  walk,  per- 
haps, of  an  institution  which  would  have  opened  its  doors  to 
her,  appears  in  the  newspapers,  shocks  you  dreadfully,  and  is 
then  forgotten  again.  Take  as  much  pains  to  make  charities 
and  asylums  known  among  the  people  without  money  as  are 
taken  to  make  a  new  play,  a  new  journal,  or  a  new  medicine 
known  among  the  people  with  money,  and  you  will  save 
many  a  lost  creature  who  is  perishing  now. 

"You  will  forgive  and  understand  me  if  I  say  no  more  of 
this  period  of  my  life.  Let  me  pass  to  the  new  incident  in 
my  career  which  brought  me  for  the  second  time  before  the 
public  notice  in  a  court  of  law. 

"  Sad  as  my  experience  has  been,  it  has  not  taught  me  to 
think  ill  of  human  nature.  I  had  found  kind  hearts  to  feel 
for  me  in  my  former  troubles ;  and  I  had  friends — faithful, 
self-denying,  generous  friends — among  my  sisters  in  adver- 
sity now.  One  of  these  poor  women  (she  has  gone,  I  am  glad 
to  think,  from  the  world  that  used  her  so  hardly)  especially 
attracted  my  sympathies.  She  was  the  gentlest,  the  most 
unselfish  creature  T  have  ever  met  with.  We  lived  together 
like  sisters.  More  than  once,  in  the  dark  hours  when  the 
thought  of  self-destruction  comes  to  a  desperate  woman,  the 
image  of  my  poor  devoted  friend,  left  to  suffer  alone,  rose  in 
my  mind  and  restrained  me.  You  will  hardly  understand  it, 
but  even  ir<>  had  our  happy  days.  When  she  or  I  had  a  few 
shillings  to  spare,  we  used  to  offer  one  another  little  pres- 
ents, and  enjoy  our  simple  pleasure  in  giving  and  receiv- 
ing as  keenly  as  if  we  had  been  the, most  reputable  women 
living. 


280  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  One  day  I  took  my  friend  into  a  shop  to  buy  her  a  rib- 
bon— only  a  bow  for  her  dress.  She  was  to  choose  it,  and  I 
was  to  pay  for  it,  and  it  was  to  be  the  prettiest  ribbon  that 
money  could  buy. 

"The  shop  was  full;  we  had  to  wait  a  little  before  we 
could  be  served. 

"  Next  to  me,  as  I  stood  at  the  counter  with  my  compan- 
ion, was  a  gaudily  dressed  woman,  looking  at  some  handker- 
chiefs. The  handkerchiefs  were  finely  embroidered,  but  the 
smart  lady  was  hard  to  please.  She  tumbled  them  up  dis- 
dainfully in  a  heap,  and  asked  for  other  specimens  from  the 
stock  in  the  shop.  The  man,  in  clearing  the  handkerchiefs 
out  of  the  way,  suddenly  missed  one.  He  was  quite  sure  of 
it,  from  a  peculiarity  in  the  embroidery  which  made  the  hand- 
kerchief especially  noticeable.  I  was  poorly  dressed,  and  I 
was  close  to  the  handkerchiefs.  After  one  look  at  me  he 
shouted  to  the  superintendent,  '  Shut  the  door  !  There  is  a 
thief  in  the  shop  !' 

"  The  door  was  closed ;  the  lost  handkerchief  was  vainly 
sought  for  on  the  counter  and  on  the  floor.  A  robbery  had 
been  committed ;  and  I  was  accused  of  being  the  thief. 

"  I  will  say  nothing  of  what  I  felt — I  will  only  tell  you  what 
happened. 

"  I  was  searched,  and  the  handkerchief  was  discovered  on 
me.  The  woman  who  had  stood  next  to  me,  on  finding  her- 
self threatened  with  discovery,  had  no  doubt  contrived  to  slip 
the  stolen  handkerchief  into  my  pocket.  Only  an  accomplish- 
ed thief  could  have  escaped  detection  in  that  way  without 
my  knowledge.  It  was  useless,  in  the  face  of  the  facts,  to 
declare  my  innocence.  I  had  no  character  to  appeal  to.  My 
friend  tried  to  speak  for  me ;  but  what  was  she  ?  Only  a  lost 
woman  like  myself.  My  landlady's  evidence  in  favor  of  my 
honesty  produced  no  effect;  it  was  against  her  that  she  let 
lodgings  to  people  in  my  position.  I  was  prosecuted,  and 
found  guilty.  The  tale  of  my  disgrace  is  now  complete,  Mr 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEX.  281 

Ilolmcroft.  No  matter  whether  I  was  innocent  or  not,  the 
shame  of  it  remains — I  have  been  imprisoned  for  theft. 

"  The  matron  of  the  prison  was  the  next  person  who  took 
an  interest  in  me.  She  reported  favorably  of  my  behavior  to 
the  authorities  ;  and  when  I  had  served  my  time  (as  the 
phrase  was  among  us)  she  gave  me  a  letter  to  the  kind  friend 
and  guardian  of  my  later  years — to  the  lady  who  is  coming 
here  to  take  me  back  with  her  to  the  Refuge. 

"From  this  time  the  story  of  my  life  is  little  more  than  the 
story  of  a  woman's  vain  efforts  to  recover  her  lost  place  in 
the  world. 

"  The  matron,  on  receiving  me  into  the  Refuge,  frankly 
acknowledged  that  there  were  terrible  obstacles  in  my  way. 
But  she  saw  that  I  was  sincere,  and  she  felt  a  good  woman's 
sympathy  and  compassion  for  me.  On  my  side,  I  did  not 
shrink  from  beginning  the  slow  and  weary  journey  back  again 
to  a  reputable  life  from  the  humblest  starting-point — from 
domestic  service.  After  first  earning  ray  new  character  in 
the  Refuge,  I  obtained  a  trial  in  a  respectable  house.  I  work- 
ed hard,  and  worked  uncomplainingly  ;  but  my  mother's  fatal 
legacy  was  against  me  from  the  first.  My  personal  appear- 
ance excited  remark;  rny  manners  and  habits  were  not  the 
manners  and  habits  of  the  women  among  whom  my  lot  was 
cast.  I  tried  one  place  after  another — always  with  the  same 
results.  Suspicion  and  jealousy  I  could  endure ;  but  I  was 
defenseless  wher  Curiosity  assailed  me  in  its  turn.  Sooner  or 
later  inquiry  led  to  discovery.  Sometimes  the  servants  threat- 
ened to  give  warning  in  a  body — and  I  was  obliged  to  go. 
Sometimes,  where  there  was  a  young  man  in  the  family,  scan- 
dal pointed  at  me  and  at  him — and  again  I  was  obliged  to 
go.  If  you  care  to  know  it,  Miss  Roseberry  can  tell  you  the 
story  of  those  sad  days.  I  confided  it  to  her  on  the  memo- 
rable night  when  we  met  in  the  French  cottage ;  I  have  no 
heart  to  repeat  it  no\v.  After  a  while  I  wearied  of  the  hope- 
less struggle.  Despair  laid  its  hold  on  me — I  lost  all  hope  in 
13 


282  THE   NEW    MAGDALEN. 

the  mercy  of  God.  More  than  once  I  walked  to  one  or  other 
of  the  bridges,  and  looked  over  the  parapet  at  the  river,  and 
said  to  myself,  '  Other  women  have  done  it :  why  shouldn't  I?' 

"  You  saved  me  at  that  time,  Mr.  Gray — as  you  have  saved 
me  since.  I  was  one  of  your  congregation  when  you  preach- 
ed in  the  chapel  of  the  Refuge.  You  reconciled  others  be- 
sides me  to  our  hard  pilgrimage.  In  their  name  and  in  mine, 
sir,  I  thank  you. 

"  I  forget  how  long  it  was  after  the  bright  day  when  you 
comforted  and  sustained  us  that  the  war  broke  out  between 
France  and  Germany.  But  I  can  never  forget  the  evening 
when  the  matron  sent  for  me  into  her  own  room  and  said, 
*  My  dear,  your  life  here  is  a  wasted  life.  If  you  have  cour- 
age enough  left  to  try  it,  I  can  give  you  another  chance.' 

"  I  passed  through  a  month  of  probation  in  a  London  hos- 
pital. A  week  after  that  I  wore  the  red  cross  of  the  Geneva 
Convention — I  was  appointed  nurse  in  a  French  ambulance. 
When  you  first  saw  me,  Mr.  Holmcroft,  I  still  had  my  nurse's 
dress  on,  hidden  from  you  and  from  every  body  under  a  gray 
cloak." 

"  You  know  what  the  next  event  was ;  you  know  how  T  en- 
tered this  house. 

"  I  have  not  tried  to  make  the  worst  of  rny  trials  and 
troubles  in  telling  you  what  my  life  has  been.  I  have  'honest- 
ly described  it  for  what  it  was  when  I  met  with  Miss  Rose- 
berry — a  life  without  hope.  May  you  never  know  the  temp- 
tation that  tried  me  when  the  shell  struck  its  victim  in  the 
French  cottage  !  There  she  lay — dead  !  Her  name  was  un- 
tainted. Her  future  promised  me  the  reward  which  had  been 
denied  to  the  honest  efforts  of  a  penitent  woman.  My  lost 
place  in  the  world  was  offered  back  to  me  on  the  one  con- 
dition that  I  stooped  to  win  it  by  a  fraud.  I  had  no  pros- 
pect to  look  forward  to ;  I  had  no  friend  near  to  advise  me 
and  to  save  me  ;  the  fairest  years  of  my  womanhood  had  been 
wasted  in  the  vain  struggle  to  recover  my  good  name.  Such 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN'.  283 

was  my  position  when  the  possibility  of  personating  7>Iiss 
IIoscberry  first  forced  itself  on  my  mind.  Impulsively,  reck- 
lessly— wickedly,  if  you  like — I  seized  the  opportunity,  and 
let  you  pass  me  through  the  German  lines  under  Miss  Rose- 
berry's  name.  Arrived  in  England,  having  had  time  to  re- 
flect, I  made  my  first  and  last  effort  to  draw  back  before  it 
was  too  late.  I  went  to  the  Refuge,  and  stopped  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  the  street,  looking  at  it.  The  old  hopeless  life 
of  irretrievable  disgrace  confronted  me  as  I  fixed  my  eyes  on 
the  familiar  door;  the  horror  of  returning  to  that  life  was 
more  than  I  could  force  myself  to  endure.  An  empty  cab 
passed  me  at  the  moment.  The  driver  held  up  his  hand.  In 
sheer  despair  I  stopped  him,  and  when  he  said  '  Where  to  V 
in  sheer  despair  again  I  answered, '  Mablethorpe  House.' 

"  Of  what  I  have  suffered  in  secret  since  my  own  success- 
ful deception  established  me  under  Lady  Janet's  care  I  shall 
say  nothing.  Many  things  which  must  have  surprised  you  in 
my  conduct  are  made  plain  to  you  by  this  time.  You  must 
have  noticed  long  since  that  I  was  not  a  happy  woman.  Now 
you  know  why. 

"  My  confession  is  made ;  my  conscience  has  spoken  at  last. 
You  are  released  from  your  promise  to  me — you  are  free. 
Thank  Mr.  Julian  Gray  if  I  stand  here  self  accused  of  the  of- 
fense that  I  have  committed,  before  the  man  whom  I  have 
wronged." 


CHAPTER  XXVHL 

SENTENCE    IS    PRONOUNCED    ON   HER. 

IT  was  done.     The  last  tones  of  her  voice  died  away  in 
silence. 

v  Her  eyes  still  rested  on  Horace.  After  hearing  what  he 
had  heard,  could  he  resist  that  gentle,  pleading  look  ?  Would 
he  forgive  her  ?  A  while  since  Julian  had  seen  tears  on  his 


284  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

cheeks,  and  had  believed  that  he  felt  for  her.  Why  was  he 
now  silent?  Was  it  possible  that  he  only  felt  for  himself? 

For  the  last  time — at  the  crisis  of  her  life — Julian  spoke 
for  her.  He  had  never  loved  her  as  he  loved  her  at  th  .t  mo- 
ment ;  it  tried  even  his  generous  nature  to  plead  her  cause 
with  Horace  against  himself.  But  he  had  promised  her5  with- 
out reserve,  all  the  help  that  her  truest  friend  could  offer. 
Faithfully  and  manfully  he  redeemed  his  promise. 

"  Horace  !"  he  said. 

Horace  slowly  looked  up.    Julian  rose  and  approached  him. 

"  She  has  told  you  to  thank  me,  if  her  conscience  has  spoken. 
Thank  the  noble  nature  which  answered  when  I  called  upon 
it !  Own  the  priceless  value  of  a  woman  who  can  speak  the 
truth.  Her  heart-felt  repentance  is  a  joy  in  heaven.  Shall  it 
not  plead  for  her  on  earth?  Honor  her, if  you  are  a  Chris- 
tian! Feel  for  her,  if  you  are  a  man  !" 

He  waited.     Horace  never  answered  him. 

Mercy's  eyes  turned  tearfully  on  Julian.  His  heart  was  the 
heart  that  felt  for  her !  His  words  were  the  words  which 
comforted  and  pardoned  her !  When  she  looked  back  again 
at  Horace,  it  was  with  an  effort.  His  last  hold  on  her  was 
lost.  In  her  inmost  mind  a  thought  rose  unbidden  —  a 
thought  which  was  not  to  be  repressed.  "Can  I  ever  have 
loved  this  man  ?" 

She  advanced  a  step  toward  him  ;  it  was  not  possible,  even 
yet,  to  completely  forget  the  past.  She  held  out  her  hand. 

He  rose,  on  his  side — without  looking  at  her. 

"  Before  we  part  forever,"  she  said  to  him,  "  will  you  take 
my  hand  as  a  token  that  you  forgive  me  ?" 

He  hesitated.  He  half  lifted  his  hand.  The  next  moment 
the  generous  impulse  died  away  in  him.  In  its  place  came 
the  mean  fear  of  what  might  happen  if  he  trusted  himself  to 
the  dangerous  fascination  of  her  touch.  His  hand  dropped 
again  at  his  side ;  he  turned  away  quickly. 

"  I  can't  forgive  her  !"  he  said. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  285 

With  that  horrible  confession — without  even  a  last  look  at 
hei — he  left  the  room. 

At  the  moment  when  he  opened  the  door  Julian's  contempt 
for  him  burst  its  way  through  all  restraints. 

"  Horace,"  he  said,  "  I  pity  you  !" 

As  the  words  escaped  him  he  looked  back  at  Mercy.  She 
had  turned  aside  from  both  of  them — she  had  retired  to  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  library.  The  first  bitter  foretaste  of  what 
was  in  store  for  her  when  she  faced  the  world  again  had  come 
to  her  from  Horace !  The  energy  which  had  sustained  her 
thus  far  quailed  before  the  dreadful  prospect — doubly  dread- 
ful to  a  woman — of  obloquy  and  contempt.  She  sank  on  her 
knees  before  a  little  couch  in  the  darkest  corner  of  the  room. 
"O  Christ,  have  mercy  on  me!"  That  was  IK;  prayer — no 
more. 

Julian  followed  her.  He  waited  a  little.  Then  his  kind 
hand  touched  her ;  his  friendly  voice  fell  consolingly  on  her 
ear. 

"  Rise,  poor  wounded  heart !  Beautiful,  purified  soul,  God's 
::ngels  rejoice  over  you  !  Take  your  place  among  the  noblest 
of  God's  creatures !" 

He  raised  her  as  he  spoke.  All  her  heart  went  out  to  him. 
She  caught  his  hand  —  she  pressed  it  to  her  bosom;  she 
pressed  it  to  her  lips — then  dropped  it  suddenly,  and  stood 
before  him  trembling  like  a  frightened  child. 

"  Forgive  me  !"  was  all  she  could  say.  "  I  was  so  lost  and 
lonely — and  you  are  so  good  to  me  !" 

She  tried  to  leave  him.  It  was  useless — her  strength  was 
gone ;  she  caught  at  the  head  of  the  couch  to  support  herself. 
He  looked  at  her.  The  confession  of  his  love  was  just  rising 
to  his  lips — he  looked  again,  and  checked  it.  No,  not  at  that 
moment;  not  when  she  was  helpless  and  ashamed;  not  when 
her  weakness  might  make  her  yield,  only  to  regret  it  at  a  later 
time.  The  great  heart  which  had  spared  her  and  felt  for  her 
from  the  first  spared  her  and  felt  for  her  now. 


286  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

He,  too,  left  her — but  not  without  a  word  at  parting. 

"Don't  think  of  your  future  life  just  yet,"  he  said, gently. 
"  I  have  something  to  propose  when  rest  and  quiet  have  re- 
stored you."  He  opened  the  nearest  door — the  door  of  the 
dining-room — and  went  out. 

The  servants  engaged  in  completing  the  decoration  of  the 
dinner- table  noticed,  when  "Mr.  Julian"  entered  the  room, 
that  his  eyes  were  "  brighter  than  ever."  He  looked  (they  re- 
marked) like  a  man  who  "  expected  good  news."  They  were 
inclined  to  suspect — though  he  was  certainly  rather  young  for 
it — that  her  ladyship's  nephew  was  in  a  fair  way  of  prefer- 
ment in  the  Church. 

Mercy  seated  herself  on  the  couch. 

There  are  limits,  in  the  physical  organization  of  man,  to  the 
action  of  pain.  When  suffering  has  reached  a  given  point  of 
intensity  the  nervous  sensibility  becomes  incapable  of  feeling 
more.  The  rule  of  Nature,  in  this  respect,  applies  not  only 
to  sufferers  in  the  body,  but  to  sufferers  in  the  mind  as  well. 
Grief,  rage,  terror,  have  also  their  appointed  limits.  The  mor- 
al sensibility,  like  the  nervous  sensibility,  reaches  its  period  of 
absolute  exhaustion,  and  feels  no  more. 

The  capacity  for  suffering  in  Mercy  had  attained  its  term. 
Alone  in  the  library,  she  could  feel  the  physical  relief  of  re- 
pose; she  could  vaguely  recall  Julian's  parting  words  to  her, 
and  sadly  wonder  what  they  meant — she  could  do  no  more. 

An  interval  passed ;  a  brief  interval  of  perfect  rest. 

She  recovered  herself  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  look  at  her 
watch  and  to  estimate  the  lapse  of  time  that  might  yet  pass 
before  Julian  returned  to  her  as  he  had  promised.  While 
her  mind  was  still  languidly  following  this  train  of  thought 
she  was  disturbed  by  the  ringing  of  a  bell  in  the  hall,  used  to 
summon  the  servant  whose  duties  were  connected  with  that 
part  of  the  house.  In  leaving  the  library,  Horace  had  gone 
out  by  the  door  which  led  into  the  hall,  and  had  failed  to 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  287 

close  it.     She  plainly  heard  the  bell — and  a  moment  later 
(more  plainly  still)  she  heard  Lady  Janet's  voice  ! 

She  started  to  her  feet.  Lady  Janet's  letter  was  still  in  the 
pocket  of  her  apron — the  letter  which  imperatively  commanded 
her  to  abstain  from  making  the  very  confession  that  had  just 
passed  her  lips  !  It  was  near  the  dinner  hour,  and  the  libra 
ry  was  the  favorite  place  in  which  the  mistress  of  the  house 
and  her  guests  assembled  at  that  time.  It  was  no  matter  of 
doubt ;  it  was  an  absolute  certainty  that  Lady  Janet  had  only 
stopped  in  the  hall  on  her  way  into  the  room. 

The  alternative  for  Mercy  lay  between  instantly  leaving  the 
library  by  the  dining-room  door — or  remaining  where  she 
was,  at  the  risk  of  being  sooner  or  later  compelled  to  own 
that  she  had  deliberately  disobeyed  her  benefactress.  Ex- 
hausted by  what  she  had  already  suffered,  she  stood  trem- 
bling and  irresolute,  incapable  of  deciding  which  alternative 
she  should  choose. 

Lady  Janet's  voice,  clear  and  resolute,  penetrated  into  the 
room.  She  was  reprimanding  the  servant  who  had  answered 
the  bell. 

"  Is  it  your  duty  in  my  house  to  look  after  the  lamps  ?" 

«  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  And  is  it  my  duty  to  pay  you  your  wages?" 

"  If  you  please,  my  lady." 

"  Why  do  I  find  the  light  in  the  hall  dim,  and  the  wick  of 
that  lamp  smoking?  I  have  not  failed  in  my  duty  to  You. 
Don't  let  me  find  you  failing  again  in  your  duty  to  Me." 

(Never  had  Lady  Janet's  voice  sounded  so  sternly  in  Mer- 
cy's ear  as  it  sounded  now.  If  she  spoke  with  that  tone  of 
severity  to  a  servant  who  had  neglected  a  lamp,  what  had  her 
adopted  daughter  to  expect  when  she  discovered  that  her  en- 
treaties and  her  commands  had  been  alike  set  at  defiance  ?) 

Having  administered  her  reprimand,  Lady  Janet  had  not 
done  with  the  servant  yet.  She  had  a  question  to  put  to  him 
next. 


288  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Where  is  Miss  Roseberry  ?" 

"  In  the  library,  my  lady." 

Mercy  returned  to  the  couch.  She  could  stand  no  longer; 
she  had  not  even  resolution  enough  left  to  lift  her  eyes  to  the 
dooi*. 

Lady  Janet  came  in  more  rapidly  than  usual.  She  ad 
vanced  to  the  couch,  and  tapped  Mercy  playfully  on  the  cheek 
with  two  of  her  fingers. 

"  You  lazy  child  !     Not  dressed  for  dinner  ?     Oh,  fie,  fie !" 

Her  tone  was  as  playfully  affectionate  as  the  action  which 
had  accompanied  her  words.  In  speechless  astonishment 
Mercy  looked  up  at  her. 

Always  remarkable  for  the  taste  and  splendor  of  her  dress, 
Lady  Janet  had  on  this  occasion  surpassed  herself.  There 
she  stood  revealed  in  her  grandest  velvet,  her  richest  jewelry, 
her  finest  lace — with  no  one  to  entertain  at  the  dinner-table 
but  the  ordinary  members  of  the  circle  at  Mablethorpe 
House.  Noticing  this  as  strange  to  begin  with,  Mercy  fur- 
ther observed,  for  the  first  time  in  her  experience,  that  Lady 
Janet's  eyes  avoided  meeting  hers.  The  old  lady  took  her 
place  companionably  on  the  couch;  she  ridiculed  her  "lazy 
child's"  plain  dress,  without  an  ornament  of  any  sort  on  it, 
with  her  best  grace;  she  affectionately  put  her  arm  round 
Mercy's  waist,  and  re-arranged  with  her  own  hand  the  disor- 
dered locks  of  Mercy's  hair — but  the  instant  Mercy  herself 
looked  at  her,  Lady  Janet's  eyes  discovered  something  su- 
premely interesting  in  the  familiar  objects  that  surrounded 
her  041  the  library  walls. 

How  were  these  changes  to  be  interpreted  ?  To  what  pos- 
sible conclusion  did  they  point  ? 

Julian's  profounder  knowledge  of  human  nature,  if  Julian 
had  been  present,  might  have  found  a  clue  to  the  mystery. 
He  might  have  surmised  (incredible  as  it  was)  that  Mercy's 
timidity  before  Lady  Janet  was  fully  reciprocated  by  Lady 
Janet's  timidity  before  Mercy.  It  was  even  so.  The  womau 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  289 

whose  immovable  composure  had  conquered  Grace  Rose- 
berry's  utmost  insolence  in  the  hour  of  her  triumph — the 
woman  who,  without  once  flinching,  had  faced  every  other 
consequence  of  her  resolution  to  ignore  Mercy's  true  position 
in  the  house — quailed  for  the  first  time  when  she  found  her- 
self face  to  face  with  the  very  person  for  whom  she  had  suf- 
fered and  sacrificed  so  much.  She  had  shrunk  from  the 
meeting  with  Mercy,  as  Mercy  had  shrunk  from  the  meeting 
with  her.  The  splendor  of  her  dress  meant  simply  that, 
when  other  excuses  for  delaying  the  meeting  down  stairs  had 
all  been  exhausted,  the  excuse  of  a  long  and  elaborate  toilet 
had  been  tried  next.  Even  the  moments  occupied  in  repri- 
manding the  servant  had  been  moments  seized  on  as  the  pre- 
text for  another  delay.  The  hasty  entrance  into  the  room, 
the  nervous  assumption  of  playfulness  in  language  and  man- 
ner, the  evasive  and  wandering  eyes,  were  all  referable  to  the 
same  cause.  In  the  presence  of  others,  Lady  Janet  had  suc- 
cessfully silenced  the  protest  of  her  own  inbred  delicacy  and 
inbred  sense  of  honor.  In  the  presence  of  Mercy,  whom  she 
loved  with  a  mother's  love  —  in  the  presence  of  Mercy,  for 
whom  she  had  stooped  to  deliberate  concealment  of  the  truth 
— all  that  was  high  and  noble  in  the  woman's  nature  rose  in 
her  and  rebuked  her.  What  will  the  daughter  of  my  adop- 
tion, the  child  of  my  first  and  last  experience  of  maternal 
love,  think  of  me,  now  that  I  have  made  myself  an  accomplice 
in  the  fraud  of  which  she  is  ashamed  ?  How  can  I  look  her 
in  the  face,  when  I  have  not  hesitated,  out  of  selfish  consid- 
eration for  my  own  tranquillity,  to  forbid  that  frank  avowal 
of  the  truth  which  her  finer  sense  of  duty  had  spontaneously 
bound  her  to  make?  Those  were  the  torturing  questions  in 
Lady  Janet's  mind,  while  her  arm  was  wound  affectionately 
round  Mercy's  waist,  while  her  fingers  were  busying  them- 
selves familiarly  with  the  arrangement  of  Mercy's  hair. 
Thence,  and  thence  only,  sprang  the  impulse  which  set  her 
talking,  with  an  uneasy  affectation  of  frivolity,  of  any  topic 

13* 


290  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

within  the  range  of  conversation,  so  long  as  it  related  to  the 
future,  and  completely  ignored  the  present  and  the  past. 

"The  winter  here  is  unendurable,"  Lady  Janet  began. 
"  I  have  been  thinking,  Grace,  about  what  we  had  better  do 
next." 

Mercy  started.  Lady  Janet  had  called  her  "  Grace." 
Lady  Janet  was  still  deliberately  assuming  to  be  innocent  of 
the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  truth. 

"No,"  resumed  her  ladyship,  affecting  to  misunderstand 
Mercy's  movement,  "  you  are  not  to  go  up  now  and  dress. 
There  is  no  time,  and  I  am  quite  ready  to  excuse  you.  You 
are  a  foil  to  me,  rny  dear.  You  have  reached  the  perfec- 
tion of  shabbiness.  Ah  !  I  remember  when  I  had  my  whims 
and  fancies  too,  and  when  I  looked  well  in  any  thing  I  wore, 
just  as  you  do.  No  more  of  that.  As  I  was  saying,  I  have 
been  thinking  and  planning  what  we  are  to  do.  We  really 
can't  stay  here.  Cold  one  day,  and  hot  the  next  —  what  a 
climate !  As  for  society,  what  do  we  lose  if  we  go  away  ? 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  society  now.  Assemblies  of  well- 
dressed  mobs  meet  at  each  other's  houses,  tear  each  other's 
clothes,  tread  on  each  other's  toes.  If  you  are  particularly 
lucky,  you  sit  on  the  staircase,  you  get  a  tepid  ice,  and  you 
hear  vapid  talk  in  slang  phrases  all  round  you.  There  is 
modern  society.  If  we  had  a  good  opera,  it  would  be  some- 
thing to  stay  in  London  for.  Look  at  the  programme  for  the 
season  on  that  table — promising  as  much  as  possible  on  pa- 
per, and  performing  as  little  as  possible  on  the  stage.  The 
same  \vorks,  sung  by  the  same  singers  year  after  year,  to  the 
same  stupid  people — in  short,  the  dullest  musical  evenings  in 
Europe.  No  !  the  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  plainly  I  per- 
ceive that  there  is  but  one  sensible  choice  before  us  :  we  must 
go  abroad.  Set  that  pretty  head  to  work ;  choose  north  or 
south,  east  or  west ;  it's  all  the  same  to  me.  Where  shall 
we  go  ?" 

Mercy  looked  at  her  quickly  as  .she  put  the  question. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  291 

Lady  Janet,  more  quickly  yet,  looked  away  at  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  opera-house.  Still  the  same  melancholy  false 
pretenses!  still  the  same  useless  and  cruel  delay!  Incapable 
of  enduring  the  position  now  forced  upon  her,  Mercy  put  her 
hand  into  the  pocket  of  her  apron,  and  drew  from  it  Lady 
Janet's  letter. 

"Will  your  ladyship  forgive  me/'  she  began,  in  faint,  fal- 
tering tones,  "if  I  venture  on  a  painful  subject?  I  hardly 
dare  acknowledge—  In  spite  of  her  resolution  to  speak  out 
plainly,  the  memory  of  past  love  and  past  kindness  prevailed 
with  her ;  the  next  words  died  away  on  her  lips.  She  could 
only  hold  up  the  letter. 

Lady  Janet  declined  to  see  the  letter.  Lady  Janet  sud- 
denly became  absorbed  in  the  arrangement  of  her  brace- 
lets. 

"  I  know  what  you  daren't  acknowledge,  you  foolish  child !" 
she  exclaimed.  "  You  daren't  acknowledge  that  you  are  tired 
of  this  dull  house.  My  dear !  I  am  entirely  of  your  opinion 
— I  am  weary  of  my  own  magnificence;  I  long  to  be  living  in 
one  snug  little  room,  with  one  servant  to  wait  on  me.  I'll 
tell  you  what  we  will  do.  We  will  go  to  Paris  in  the  first 
place.  My  excellent  Migliore,  prince  of  couriers,  shall  be  tJu 
only  person  in  attendance.  lie  shall  take  a  lodging  for  us  in 
one  of  the  unfashionable  quarters  of  Paris.  We  will  rough 
it,  Grace  (to  use  the  slang  phrase),  merely  for  a  change.  We 
will  lead  what  they  call  a'  Bohemian  life.'  I  know  plenty  of 
writers  and  painters  and  actors  in  Paris — the  liveliest  society 
in  the  world,  my  dear,  until  one  gets  tired  of  them.  We  will 
dine  at  the  restaurant,  and  go  to  the  play,  and  drive  about  in 
shabby  little  hired  carriages.  And  when  it  begins  to  get  mo- 
notonous (which  it  is  only  too  sure  to  do !)  we  will  spread 
our  wings  and  fly  to  Italy,  and  cheat  the  winter  in  that  way. 
There  is  a  plan  for  you !  Migliore  is  in  town.  I  will  send  to 
him  this  evening,  and  we  will  start  to-morrow." 

Mercy  made  another  effort. 


292  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  I  entreat  your  ladyship  to  pardon  me,"  she  resumed.  "  I 
have  something  serious  to  say.  I  am  afraid — 

"  I  understand.  You  are  afraid  of  crossing  the  Channel, 
and  you  don't  like  to  acknowledge  it.  Pooh !  The  passage 
barely  lasts  two  hours;  we  will  shut  ourselves  up  in  a  private 
cabin.  I  will  send  at  once — the  courier  may  be  engaged. 
Ring  the  bell." 

"  Lady  Janet,  I  must  submit  to  my  hard  lot.  I  can  not 
hope  to  associate  myself  again  with  any  future  plans  of 
yours— 

"  What !  you  are  afraid  of  our '  Bohemian  life '  in  Paris  ? 
Observe  this,  Grace  !  If  there  is  one  thing  I  hate  more  than 
another,  it  is  '  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders.'  I  say  no 
more.  Ring  the  bell." 

"  This  can  not  go  on,  Lady  Janet !  No  words  can  say  how 
unworthy  I  feel  of  your  kindness,  how  ashamed  I  am — 

"Upon  my  honor, my  dear, I  agree  with  you.  You  ought 
to  be  ashamed,  at  your  age,  of  making  me  get  up  to  ring  the 
bell." 

Her  obstinacy  was  immovable ;  she  attempted  to  rise  from 
the  couch.  But  one  choice  was  left  to  Mercy.  She  antici- 
pated Lady  Janet,  and  rang  the  bell. 

The  man-servant  came  in.  He  had  his  little  letter-tray  in 
his  hand,  with  a  card  on  it,  and  a  sheet  of  paper  beside  the 
card,  which  looked  like  an  open  letter. 

"  You  know  where  my  courier  lives  when  he  is  in  Lon- 
don ?"  asked  Lady  Janet. 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  Send  one  of  the  grooms  to  him  on  horseback ;  I  am  in  a 
hurry.  The  courier  is  to  come  here  without  fail  to-mo  row 
morning — in  time  for  the  tidal  train  to  Paris.  You  under- 
stand ?" 

"  Yes,  my  lady." 

"  What  have  you  got  there  ?     Any  thing  for  me  ?" 

"  For  Miss  Roseberry,  my  lady." 


THK    NK\V    MAiJUALEX.  '_".»:> 

As  he  answered,  the  man  handed  the  card  and  the  open  let 
ter  to  Mercy. 

"The  lady  is  waiting  in  the  morning -room,  miss.  She 
wished  me  to  say  she  lias  lime  to  spare,  and  she  will  wait  for 
you  if  you  are  not  ready  yet." 

Having  delivered  his  message  in  those  terms, he  withdrew. 

Mercy  read  the  name  on  the  card.  The  matron  had  ar- 
rived !  She  looked  at  the  letter  next.  It  appeared  to  be  a 
printed  circular,  with  some  lines  in  pencil  added  on  the  emp- 
ty page.  Printed  lines  and  written  lines  swam  before  her 
eyes.  She  felt,  rather  than  saw,  Lady  Janet's  attention  stead- 
ily and  suspiciously  fixed  on  her.  With  the  matron's  arrival 
the  foredoomed  end  of  the  flimsy  false  pretenses  and  the 
cruel  delays  had  come. 

"A  friend  of  yours,  my  dear  ?" 

"Yes, Lady  Janet." 

"  Am  I  acquainted  with  her  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  Lady  Janet." 

"  You  appear  to  be  agitated.  Does  your  visitor  bring  bad 
news?  Is  there  any  thing  that  I  can  do  for  you?" 

"You  can  add — immeasurably  add,  madam — to  all  your 
past  kindness,  if  you  will  only  bear  with  me  and  forgive 
me." 

"  Bear  with  you  and  forgive  yon  ?     I  don't  understand." 

"I  will  try  to  explain.  Whatever  else  you  may  think  of 
me,  Lady  Janet,  for  God's  sake  don't  think  me  ungrateful !" 

Lady  Janet  held  up  her  hand  for  silence. 

"I  dislike  explanations,"  she  said,  sharply.  "Nobody 
ought  to  know  that  better  than  you.  Perhaps  the  lady's 
letter  will  explain  for  you.  Why  have  you  not  looked  at  it 
yet?" 

"I  am  in  great  trouble,  madam,  as  you  noticed  just  now — 

''  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  knowing  who  your  visit 
or  is  ?" 

"No,  Lady  Janet." 


294  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

"  Let  me  look  at  her  card,  then. ' 

Mercy  gave  the  matron's  card  to  Lady  Janet,  as  she  had 
given  the  matron's  telegram  to  Horace. 

Lady  Janet  read  the  name  on  the  card — considered — de- 
cided that  it  was  a  name  quite  unknown  to  her — and  looked 
next  at  the  address:  "Western  District  Refuge,  Milburn 
Road." 

"A  lady  connected  with  a  Refuge?"  she  said,  speaking  to 
herself;  "and  calling  here  by  appointment — if  I  remember 
the  servant's  message  ?  A  strange  time  to  choose,  if  she  has 
come  for  a  subscription  !" 

She  paused.  Her  brow  contracted;  her  face  hardened. 
A  word  from  her  would  now  have  brought  the  interview  to 
its  inevitable  end,  and  she  refused  to  speak  the  word.  To 
the  last  moment  she  persisted  in  ignoring  the  truth !  Pla- 
cing the  card  on  the  couch  at  her  side,  she  pointed  with  her 
long  yellow-white  forefinger  to  the  printed  letter  lying  side 
by  side  with  her  own  letter  on  Mercy's  lap. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  read  it,  or  not  ?"  she  asked. 

Mercy  lifted  her  eyes,  fast  filling  with  tears,  to  Lady  Ja- 
net's face. 

"  May  I  beg  that  your  ladyship  will  read  it  for  me  ?"  she 
said — and  placed  the  matron's  letter  in  Lady  Janet's  hand. 

It  was  a  printed  circular  announcing  a  new  development 
in  the  charitable  work  of  the  Refuge.  Subscribers  were  in- 
formed that  it  had  been  decided  to  extend  the  shelter  and 
the  training  of  the  institution  (thus  far  devoted  to  fallen 
women  alone)  so  as  to  include  destitute  and  helpless  children 
found  wandering  in  the  streets.  The  question  of  the  number 
of  children  to  be  thus  rescued  and  protected  was  left  depend- 
ent, as  a  matter  of  course,  on  the  bounty  of  the  friends  of  the 
Refuge,  the  cost  of  the  maintenance  of  each  one  child  being 
stated  at  the  lowest  possible  rate.  A  list  of  influential  per- 
sons who  had  increased  their  subscriptions  so  as  to  cover  the 
cost,  and  a  brief  statement  of  the  progress  already  made  with 


THE    NEW    .M.\(.l'.\l.l.\.  295 

the  new  work,  completed  the  appeal,  and  brought  the  circular 
to  its  end. 

The  lines  traced  in  pencil  (in  the  matron's  handwriting) 
followed  on  the  blank  page. 

"  Your  letter  tells  me,  my  dear,  that  you  would  like — re- 
membering your  own  childhood — to  be  employed  when  you 
return  among  us  in  saving  other  poor  children  left  helpless 
on  the  world.  Our  circular  will  inform  you  that  I  am  able 
to  meet  your  wishes.  My  first  errand  this  evening  in  your 
neighborhood  was  to  take  charge  of  a  poor  child — a  little 
girl — who  stands  sadly  in  need  of  our  care.  I  have  ventured 
to  bring  her  with  me,  thinking  she  might  help  to  reconcile 
you  to  the  coming  change  in  your  life.  You  will  find  us 
both  waiting  to  go  back  with  you  to  the  old  home.  I  write 
this  instead  of  saying  it,  hearing  from  the  servant  that  you 
are  not  alone,  and  being  unwilling  to  intrude  myself,  as  a 
stranger,  on  the  lady  of  the  house." 

Lady  Janet  read  the  penciled  lines,  as  she  had  read  the 
printed  sentences,  aloud.  Without  a  word  of  comment  she 
laid  the  letter  where  she  had  laid  the  card ;  and,  rising  from 
her  seat,  stood  for  a  moment  in  stern  silence,  looking  at  Mer- 
cy. The  sudden  change  in  her  which  the  letter  had  pro- 
duced— quietly  as  it  had  taken  place — was  terrible  to  see. 
On  the  frowning  brow,  in  the  flashing  eyes,  on  the  hardened 
lips,  outraged  love  and  outraged  pride  looked  down  on  the 
lost  woman,  and  said,  as  if  in  words,  You  have  roused  us  at 
last. 

"  If  that  letter  means  any  thing,"  she  said,  "  it  means  you 
are  about  to  leave  my  house.  There  can  be  but  one  reason 
for  your  taking  such  a  step  as  that." 

"  It  is  the  only  atonement  I  can  make,  madam — 

"  I  see  another  letter  on  your  lap.     Is  it  my  letter  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Have  you  read  it?" 

"  I  have  read  it." 


296  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"  Have  you  seen  Horace  Holmcroft  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Have  you  told  Horace  Holmcroft — " 

"  Oh,  Lady  Janet—" 

"Don't  interrupt  me.  Have  you  told  Horace  Holmcroft 
what  my  letter  positively  forbade  you  to  communicate,  either 
to  him  or  to  any  living  creature?  I  want  no  protestations 
and  excuses.  Answer  me  instantly,  and  answer  in  one  word 
-Yes,  or  No." 

Not  even  that  haughty  language,  not  even  those  pitiless 
tones,  could  extinguish  in  Mercy's  heart  the  sacred  memories 
of  past  kindness  and  past  love.  She  fell  on  her  knees — her 
outstretched  hands  touched  Lady  Janet's  dress.  Lady  Janet 
sharply  drew  her  dress  away,  and  sternly  repeated  her  last 
words. 

"Yes?  or  No?" 

"  Yes." 

She  had  owned  it  at  last !  To  this  end  Lady  Janet  had 
submitted  to  Grace  Roseberry ;  had  offended  Horace  Holm- 
croft; had  stooped,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  to  conceal- 
ments and  compromises  that  degraded  her.  After  all  that 
she  had  sacrificed  and  suffered,  there  Mercy  knelt  at  her  feet, 
self-convicted  of  violating  her  commands,  trampling  on  her 
feelings,  deserting  her  house !  And  who  \vas  the  woman 
who  had  done  this?  The  same  woman  who  had  perpetrated 
the  fraud,  and  who  had  persisted  in  the  fraud  until  her  bene- 
factress had  descended  to  become  her  accomplice.  Then, 
and  then  only,  she  had  suddenly  discovered  that  it  was  her 
sacred  duty  to  tell  the  truth  ! 

In  proud  silence  the  great  lady  met  the  blow  that  had 
fallen  on  her.  In  proud  silence  she  turned  her  back  on  her 
adopted  daughter  and  walked  to  the  door. 

Mercy  made  her  last  appeal  to  the  kind  friend  whom  she 
had  offended — to  the  second  mother  whom  she  had  loved. 

"  Lady  Janet !   Lady  Janet !     Don't  leave  me  without   u 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  297 

word.  Oh,  madam,  try  to  feel  for  me  a  little  !  I  am  return- 
ing to  a  life  of  humiliation — the  shadow  of  my  old  disgrace 
is  falling  on  me  once  more.  We  shall  never  meet  again. 
Even  though  I  have  not  deserved  it,  let  my  repentance  plead 
with  you  !  Say  you  forgive  me  !' 

Lady  Janet  turned  round  on  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

"  I  never  forgive  ingratitude,"  she  said.  "  Go  back  to  the 
Refuge." 

The  door  opened,  and  closed  on  her.  Mercy  was  alone 
again  in  the  room. 

Unforgiven  by  Horace,  unforgiven  by  Lady  Janet !  She 
put  her  hands  to  her  burning  head,  and  tried  to  think.  Oh, 
for  the  cool  air  of  the  night !  Oh,  for  the  friendly  shelter  of 
the  Refuge !  She  could  feel  those  sad  longings  in  her :  it 
was  impossible  to  think. 

She  rang  the  bell — and  shrank  back  the  instant  she  had 
done  it.  Had  she  any  right  to  take  that  liberty  ?  She  ought 
to  have  thought  of  it  before  she  rang.  Habit  —  all  habit. 
How  many  hundreds  of  times  she  had  rung  the  bell  at  Ma- 
blethorpe  House  ! 

The  servant  came  in.  She  amazed  the  man — she  spoke  to 
him  so  timidly :  she  even  apologized  for  troubling  him  ! 

"I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you.  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to 
say  to  the  lady  that  I  am  ready  for  her  ?" 

"  Wait  to  give  that  message,"  said  a  voice  behind  them, 
"  until  you  hear  the  bell  rung  again." 

Mercy  looked  round  in  amazement.  Julian  had  returned 
to  the  library  by  the  dining-room  door. 


298  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE    LAST    TRIAL. 

THE  servant  left  them  together.     Mercy  spoke  first. 

"  Mr.  Gray  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  why  have  you  delayed  my 
message  ?  If  you  knew  all,  you  would  know  that  it  is  far 
from  being  a  kindness  to  me  to  keep  me  in  this  house." 

He  advanced  closer  to  her  —  surprised  by  her  words, 
alarmed  by  her  looks. 

"  Has  any  one  been  here  in  my  absence  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Lady  Janet  has  been  here  in  your  absence.  I  can't  speak 
of  it — my  heart  feels  crushed  —  I  can  bear  no  more.  Let 
me  go  !" 

Briefly  as  she  had  replied,  she  had  said  enough.  Julian's 
knowledge  of  Lady  Janet's  character  told  him  what  had  hap- 
pened. His  face  showed  plainly  that  he  was  disappointed  as 
well  as  distressed. 

"  I  had  hoped  to  have  been  with  you  when  you  and  my 
aunt  met,  and  to  have  prevented  this,"  he  said.  "  Believe 
me,  she  will  atone  for  all  that  she  may  have  harshly  and  has- 
tily done  when  she  has  had  time  to  think.  Try  not  to  regret 
it,  if  she  has  made  your  hard  sacrifice  harder  still.  She  has 
only  raised  you  the  higher  —  she  has  additionally  ennobled 
you  and  endeared  you  in  my  estimation.  Forgive  me  if  I 
own  this  in  plain  words.  I  can  not  control  myself — I  feel  too 
strongly." 

At  other  times  Mercy  might  have  heard  the  coming  avow- 
al in  his  tones,  might  have  discovered  it  in  his  eyes.  As  it 
was,  her  delicate  insight  was  dulled,  her  fine  perception  was 
blnnted.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  feeling  a  vague  con- 


Till:    NEW    MAGDALEN.  280 

viction  tli, -it  he  was  kinder  to  her  than  ever — and  feeling  no 
more. 

"I  must  thank  you  for  the  last  time,"  she  said.  "As  long 
as  life  is  left,  my  gratitude  will  be  a  part  of  my  life.  Let 
me  go.  While  I  can  still  control  myself,  let  me  go !" 

She  tried  to  leave  him,  and  ring  the  bell.  He  held  her 
hand  firmly,  and  drew  her  closer  to  him. 

"  To  the  Refuge  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said.     "  Home  again  !" 

"Don't  say  that!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  can't  bear  to  hear  it. 
Don't  call  the  Refuge  your  home  !" 

'•  What  else  is  it  ?     Where  else  can  I  go  ?" 

"  I  have  come  here  to  tell  you.  I  said,  if  you  remember,  I 
had  something  to  propose." 

She  felt  the  fervent  pressure  of  his  hand  ;  she  saw  the 
mounting  enthusiasm  flashing  in  his  eyes.  Her  weary  mind 
roused  itself  a  little.  She  began  to  tremble  under  the  electric 
influence  of  his  touch. 

"  Something  to  propose  ?"  she  repeated.  "  What  is  there 
to  propose  ?" 

"  Let  me  ask  you  a  question  on  my  side.  What  have  you 
done  to-day  ?" 

"  You  know  what  I  have  done :  it  is  your  work,"  she  an- 
swered, humbly.  "  Why  return  to  it  now  ?" 

"  I  return  to  it  for  the  last  time ;  I  return  to  it  with  a  pur 
pose  which  you  will  soon  understand.  You  have  abandoned 
your  marriage  engagement ;  you  have  forfeited  Lady  Janet's 
lave ;  you  have  ruined  all  your  worldly  prospects ;  you  are 
now  returning,  self-devoted,  to  a  life  which  you  have  your- 
self described  as  a  life  without  hope.  And  all  this  you  have 
done  of  your  own  free-will — at  a  time  when  you  are  absolute- 
ly secure  of  your  position  in  the  house — for  the  sake  of  speak- 
ing the  truth.  Now  tell  me,  is  ;i  woman  who  can  make  that 
sacrifice  a  woman  who  will  prove  unworthy  of  the  trust  if  :; 
man  places  in  her  keeping  his  honor  and  his  name?" 


300  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

She  understood  him  at  last.  She  broke  away  from  him 
with  a  cry.  She  stood  with  her  hands  clasped,  trembling  and 
looking  at  him. 

He  gave  her  no  time  to  think.  The  words  poured  from 
his  lips  without  conscious  will  or  conscious  effort  of  his 
own. 

"  Mercy,  from  the  first  moment  when  I  saw  you  I  loved 
you  !  You  are  free ;  I  may  own  it ;  I  may  ask  you  to  be  my 
wife  !" 

She  drew  back  from  him  farther  and  farther,  with  a  wild 
imploring  gesture  of  her  hand. 

"No!  no!"  she  cried.  "Think  of  what  you  are  saying! 
think  of  what  you  would  sacrifice  !  It  can  not,  must  not 
be." 

His  face  darkened  with  a  sudden  dread.  His  head  fell 
on  his  breast.  His  voice  sank  so  low  that  she  could  barely 
hear  it. 

"I  had  forgotten  something,"  he  said.  "You  have  re- 
minded me  of  it." 

She  ventured  back  a  little  nearer  to  him.  "Have  I  offend- 
•edyou?" 

He  smiled  sadly.  "  You  have  enlightened  me.  I  had  for- 
gotten that  it  doesn't  follow,  because  I  love  you,  that  you 
should  love  me  in  return.  Say  that  it  is  so,  Mercy,  and  I 
leave  you." 

A  faint  tinge  of  color  rose  on  her  face — then  left  it  again 
paler  than  ever.  Her  eyes  looked  downward  timidly  under 
the  eager  gaze  that  he  fastened  on  her. 

"  How  can  I  say  so  ?"  she  answered,  simply.  "  Where  is 
the  woman  in  my  place  whose  heart  could  resist  you  ?" 

He  eagerly  advanced ;  he  held  out  his  arms  to  her  in  breath- 
less, speechless  joy.  She  drew  back  from  him  once  more  with 
a  look  that  horrified  him — a  look  of  blank  despair. 

"Am  I  fit  to  be  your  wife  ?"  she  asked.  "  Must  I  remind 
you  of  what  you  owe  to  your  high  position,  your  spotless  in- 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEN.  301 

togrity,  your  famous  name  ?  Think  of  all  that  you  have  done 
for  me,  and  then  think  of  the  black  ingratitude  of  it  if  I  ruin 
you  for  life  by  consenting  to  our  marriage — if  I  selfishly, 
cruelly,  wickedly,  drag  you  down  to  the  level  of  a  woman  like 
me!" 

"  I  raise  you  to  my  level  when  I  make  you  my  wife,"  he 
answered.  "  For  Heaven's  sake  do  me  justice  !  Don't  refer 
me  to  the  world  and  its  opinions.  It  rests  with  you,  and  you 
alone,  to  make  the  misery  or  the  happiness  of  my  life.  The 
world  !  Good  God  !  what  can  the  world  give  me  in  exchange 
for  You  ?" 

She  clasped  her  hands  imploringly;  the  tears  flowed  fast 
over  her  cheeks. 

"  Oh,  have  pity  on  my  weakness  !"  she  cried.  "  Kindest, 
best  of  men,  help  me  to  do  my  hard  duty  toward  you  !  It  is 
so  hard,  after  all  that  I  have  suffered — when  my  heart  is 
yearning  for  peace  and  happiness  and  love !"  She  checked 
herself,  shuddering  at  the  words  that  had  escaped  her.  "  Re- 
member how  Mr.  Holmcroft  has  used  me !  Remember  how 
Lady  Janet  has  left  me !  Remember  what  I  have  told  you 
of  my  life !  The  scorn  of  every  creature  you  know  would 
strike  at  you  through  me.  No  !  no  !  no  !  Not  a  word  more. 
Spare  me !  pity  me !  leave  me  !" 

Her  voice  failed  her;  sobs  choked  her  utterance.  He 
sprang  to  her  and  took  her  in  his  arms.  She  was  incapable 
of  resisting  him  ;  but  there  was  no  yielding  in  her.  Her  head 
lay  on  his  bosom,  passive — horribly  passive,  like  the  head  of  a 
corpse. 

"Mercy!  My  darling!  We  will  go  away — we  will  leave 
England — we  will  take  refuge  among  new  people,  in  a  new 
world — I  will  change  my  name — I  will  break  witli  relatives, 
friends,  every  body.  Any  thing,  any  thing,  rather  than  lose 
you  !" 

She  lifted  her  head  slowly  and  looked  at  him. 

He  suddenly  released  her ;  he  reeled  back  like  a  man  stag- 


302  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

gered  by  a  blow,  and  dropped  into  a  chair.  Before  she  had 
uttered  a  word  he  saw  the  terrible  resolution  in  her  face — 
Death,  rather  than  yield  to  her  own  weakness  and  disgrace 
him. 

She  stood  with  her  hands  lightly  clasped  in  front  of  her. 
Her  grand  head  was  raised  ;  her  soft  gray  eyes  shone  again 
undimnied  by  tears.  The  storm  of  emotion  had  swept  over 
her  and  had  passed  away.  A  sad  tranquillity  was  in  her  face ; 
a  gentle  resignation  was  in  her  voice.  The  calm  of  a  mar- 
tyr was  the  calm  that  confronted  him  as  she  spoke  her  last 
words. 

"A  woman  who  has  lived  my  life,  a  woman  who  has  suffer- 
ed what  I  have  suffered,  may  love  you— as  I  love  you — but 
she  must  not  be  your  wife.  That  place  is  too  high  above  her. 
Any  other  place  is  too  far  below  her  and  below  you."  She 
paused,  and  advancing  to  the  bell,  gave  the  signal  for  her  de- 
parture. That  done,  she  slowly  retraced  her  steps  until  she 
stood  at  Julian's  side. 

Tenderly  she  lifted  his  head  and  laid  it  for  a  moment  on 
her  bosom.  Silently  she  stooped  and  touched  his  forehead 
with  her  lips.  All  the  gratitude  that  filled  her  heart  and  all 
the  sacrifice  that  rent  it  were  in  those  two  actions — so  mod- 
estly, so  tenderly  performed  !  As  the  last  lingering  pressure 
of  her  fingers  left  him,  Julian  burst  into  tears. 

The  servant  answered  the  bell.  At  the  moment  when  he 
opened  the  door  a  woman's  voice  was  audible  in  the  hall 
speaking  to  him. 

"  Let  the  child  go  in,"  the  voice  said.     "  I  will  wait  here." 

The  child  appeared — the  same  forlorn  little  creature  who 
had  reminded  Mercy  of  her  own  early  years  on  the  day  when 
she  and  Horace  Holmcroft  had  been  out  for  their  walk. 

There  was  no  beauty  in  this  child ;  no  halo  of  romance 
brightened  the  commonplace  horror  of  her  story.  She  came 
cringing  into  the  room,  staring  stupidly  at  the  magnificence 
all  round  her— the  daughter  of  the  London  streets  !  the  pet 


THE   XEW   MAGDALEX.  803 

creation  of  the  laws  of  political  economy  !  the  savage  and  ter- 
rible product  of  a  worn-out  system  of  government  and  of  a 
civilization  rotten  to  its  core!  Cleaned  for  the  first  time  in 
her  life,  fed  sufficiently  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  dressed  in 
clothes  instead  of  rags  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  Mercy's 
sister  in  adversity  crept  fearfully  over  the  beautiful  carpet, 
and  stopped  wonder-struck  before  the  marbles  of  an  inlaid 
table— a  blot  of  mud  on  the  splendor  of  the  room. 

Mercy  turned  from  Julian  to  meet  the  child.  The  wom- 
an's heart,  hungering  in  its  horrible  isolation  for  something 
that  it  might  harmlessly  love,  welcomed  the  rescued  waif  of 
the  streets  as  a  consolation  sent  from  God.  Sh?  caught  the 
stupefied  little  creature  up  in  her  arms.  "  Kiss  me !"  she 
whispered,  in  the  reckless  agony  of  the  moment.  "  Call  me 
sister  !"  The  child  stared,  vacantly.  Sister  meant  nothing 
to  her  mind  but  an  older  girl  who  was  strong  enough  to  beat 
her. 

She  put  the  child  down  again,  and  turned  for  a  last  look  at 
the  man  whose  happiness  she  had  wrecked — in  pity  to  him. 

He  had  never  moved.  His  head  was  down  ;  his  face  was 
hidden.  She  went  back  to  him  a  few  steps. 

"  The  others  have  gone  from  me  without  one  kind  word. 
Can  you  forgive  me  ?" 

lie  held  out  his  hand  to  her  without  looking  up.  Sorely  as 
she  had  wounded  him,  his  generous  nature  understood  her. 
True  to  her  from  the  first,  he  was  true  to  her  still. 

"  God  bless  and  comfort  you,"  he  said,  in  broken  tones. 
"  The  earth  holds  no  nobler  woman  than  you." 

She  knelt  and  kissed  the  kind  hand  that  pressed  hers  for 
the  last  time.  "  It  doesn't  end  with  this  world,"  she  whisper- 
ed :  "  there  is  a  better  world  to  come  !"  Then  she  rose,  and 
went  back  to  the  child.  Hand  in  hand  the  two  citizens  of  the 
Government  of  God — outcasts  of  the  Government  of  Man — 
passed  slowly  down  the  length  of  the  room.  Then  out  into 

the  hnll.     Then  out  into  the  night.     The  heavy  clang  of  the 
14 


304  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

closing  door  tolled  the  knell  of  their  departure.  They  were 
gone. 

But  the  orderly  routine  of  the  house — inexorable  as  death — 
pursued  its  appointed  course.  As  the  clock  struck  the  hour 
the  dinner-bell  rang.  An  interval  of  a  minute  passed,  and 
marked  the  limit  of  delay.  The  butler  appeared  at  the  din- 
ing-room door. 

"  Dinner  is  served,  sir." 

Julian  looked  up.  The  empty  room  met  his  eyes.  Some- 
thing white  lay  on  the  carpet  close  by  him.  It  was  her  hand- 
kerchief— wet  with  her  tears.  He  took  it  up  and  pressed  it 
to  his  lips.  Was  that  to  be  the  last  of  "her?  Had  she  left 
him  forever  ? 

The  native  energy  of  the  man,  arming  itself  with  all  the 
might  of  his  love,  kindled  in  him  again.  No  !  While  life 
was  in  him,  while  time  was  before  him,  there  was  the  hope  of 
winning  her  yet ! 

He  turned  to  the  servant,  reckless  of  what  his  face  might 
betray. 

"  Where  is  Lady  Janet  ?" 

"  In  the  dining-room,  sir." 

He  reflected  for  a  moment.  His  own  influence  had  failed, 
Through  what  other  influence  could  he  now  hope  to  reach 
her  ?  As  the  question  crossed  his  mind  the  light  broke  on 
him.  He  saw  the  way  back  to  her — through  the  influence  oi 
Lady  Janet. 

"  Her  ladyship  is  waiting,  sir." 

Julian  entered  the  dining-room. 


•JLUK    M-;\V    MAGDALEN.  305 


EPILOGUE: 

CONTAINING  SELECTIONS  FROM  THE  CORRESPONDENCE  OF 
MISS  GRACE  ROSEBERRY  AND  MR.  HORACE  HOLMCROFT  J  TO 
WHICH  ARE  ADDED  EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  THE 
REVEREND  JULIAN  GRAY. 

I. 

From  MR.  HORACE  HOLMCROFT  to  Mis»  GHACK  ROSB- 
BERRY. 

"I  HASTEN  to  thank  you,  dear  Miss  Roseberry,  for  your 
last  kind  letter,  received  by  yesterday's  mail  from  Canada. 
Believe  me,  I  appreciate  your  generous  readiness  to  pardon 
and  forget  what  I  so  rudely  said  to  you  at  a  time  when  the 
arts  of  an  adventuress  had  blinded  me  to  the  truth.  In  the 
grace  which  has  forgiven  me  I  recognize  the  inbred  sense  of 
justice  of  a  true  lady.  Birth  and  breeding  can  never  fail  to 
assert  themselves  :  I  believe  in  them,  thank  God,  more  firmly 
than  ever. 

"  You  ask  me  to  keep  you  informed  of  the  progress  of  Ju- 
lian Gray's  infatuation,  and  of  the  course  of  conduct  pursued 
toward  him  by  Mercy  Merrick. 

"  If  you  had  not  favored  me  by  explaining  your  object,  I 
might  have  felt  some  surprise  at  receiving  from  a  lady  in 
your  position  such  a  request  as  this.  But  the  motives  by 
which  you  describe  yourself  as  being  actuated  are  beyond 
dispute.  The  existence  of  Society,  as  you  truly  say,  is  threat- 
ened by  "he  present  lamentable  prevalence  of  Liberal  ideas 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  We  can  only 
hcpe  to  protect  ourselves  against  impostors  interested  in  gain- 
ing n  position  among  persons  of  our  rank  by  becoming  in 
some  sort  (unpleasant  as  it  may  be)  familiar  with  the  arts 


800  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

by  which  imposture  too  frequently  succeeds.  If  we  wish  to 
know  to  what  daring  lengths  cunning  can  go,  to  what  pitiable 
self-delusion  credulity  can  consent,  we  must  watch  the  proceed- 
ings— even  while  we  shrink  from  them — of  a  Mercy  Merrick 
and  a  Julian  Gray. 

"  In  taking  up  my  narrative  again,  where  my  last  letter  left 
off,  I  must  venture  to  set  you  right  on  one  point. 

"  Certain  expressions  which  have  escaped  your  pen  suggest 
to  me  that  you  blame  Julian  Gray  as  the  cause  of  Lady  Ja- 
net's regretable  visit  to  the  Refuge  the  day  after  Mercy  Mer- 
rick had  left  her  house.  This  is  not  quite  correct.  Julian, 
as  you  will  presently  see,  has  enough  to  answer  for  without 
being  held  responsible  for  errors  of  judgment  in  which  he 
has  had  no  share.  Lady  Janet  (as  she  herself  told  me)  went 
to  the  Refuge  of  her  own  free-will  to  ask  Mercy  Merrick's 
pardon  for  the  language  which  she  had  used  on  the  previous 
day.  *  I  passed  a  night  of  such  misery  as  no  words  can  de- 
scribe ' — this,  I  assure  you,  is  what  her  ladyship  really  said  to 
me — '  thinking  over  what  my  vile  pride  and  selfishness  and 
obstinacy  had  made  me  say  and  do.  I  would  have  gone  down 
on  my  knees  to  beg  her  pardon  if  she  would  have  let  me.  My 
first  happy  moment  was  when  I  won  her  consent  to  come  and 
visit  me  sometimes  at  Mablethorpe  House.' 

"  You  will,  I  am  sure,  agree  with  me  that  such  extravagance 
as  this  is  to  be  pitied  rather  than  blamed.  How  sad  to  see 
the  decay  of  the  faculties  with  advancing  age  !  It  is  a  mat- 
ter of  grave  anxiety  to  consider  how  much  longer  poor  Lady 
Janet  can  be  trusted  to  manage  her  own  affairs.  I  shall  take 
an  opportunity  of  touching  on  the  matter  delicately  when  I 
next  see  her  lawyer. 

"  I  am  straying  from  my  subject.  And — is  it  not  strange  ? 
— I  am  writing  to  you  as  confidentially  as  if  we  were  old 
friends. 

"To  return  to  Julian  Gray.  Innocent  of  instigating  his 
aunt/s  first  visit  to  the  Refuge,  he  is  guilty  of  having  induced 


mi:  NEW  MA<;DALEN.  307 

her  to  go  there  for  the  second  time  the  day  after  I  had  dis- 
patched my  last  letter  to  you.  Lady  Janet's  object  on  this 
occasion  was  neither  more  nor  less  than  to  plead  her  nephew's 
cause  as  humble  suitor  for  the  hand  of  Mercy  Merrick.  Im- 
agine the  descendant  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  in  England 
inviting  an  adventuress  in  a  Refuge  to  honor  a  clergyman  of 
the  Church  of  England  by  becoming  his  wife !  In  what 
times  do  we  live !  My  dear  mother  shed  tears  of  shame 
when  she  heard  of  it.  How  you  would  love  and  admire  my 
mother ! 

"  I  dined  at  Mabiethorpe  House,  by  previous  appointment, 
on  the  day  when  Lady  Janet  returned  from  her  degrading  er- 
rand. 

" '  Well  ?'  I  said,  waiting,  of  course,  until  the  servant  was 
out  of  the  room. 

"  '  Well,'  Lady  Janet  answered, '  Julian  was  quite  right.' 

"  '  Quite  right  in  what  ?' 

"'In  saying  that  the  earth  holds  no  nobler  woman  than 
Mercy  Merrick.' 

" '  Has  she  refused  him  again  ?' 

" '  She  has  refused  him  again.' 

"  '  Thank  God  !'  I  felt  it  fervently,  and  I  said  it  fervently. 
Lady  Janet  laid  down  her  knife  and  fork,  and  fixed  one  of  her 
fierce  looks  on  me. 

"  '  It  may  not  be  your  fault,  Horace,'  she  said, '  if  your  na- 
ture is  incapable  of  comprehending  what  is  great  and  gener- 
ous in  other  natures  higher  than  yours.  But  the  least,  you 
can  do  is  to  distrust  your  own  capacity  of  appreciation.  For 
the  future  keep  your  opinions  (on  questions  which  you  don't 
understand)  modestly  to  yourself.  I  have  a  tenderness  for 
you  for  your  father's  sake  ;  and  I  lake  the  most  favorable 
view  of  your  conduct  toward  Mercy  Merrick.  I  humanely 
consider  it  the  conduct  of  a  fool.'  (Her  own  words,  Miss 
Koseberry.  I  assure  you  once  more,  her  own  words.)  '  But 
don't  trespass  too  far.  on  my  indulgence — don't  insinuate  again 


308  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

that  a  woman  who  is  good  enough  (if  she  died  this  night)  to 
go  to  heaven,  is  not  good  enough  to  be  my  nephew's  wife.' 

"  I  expressed  to  you  my  conviction  a  little  way  back  that 
it  was  doubtful  whether  poor  Lady  Janet  would  be  much 
longer  competent  to  manage  her  own  affairs.  Perhaps  you 
thought  me  hasty  then  ?  What  do  you  think  now  ? 

"  It  was,  of  course,  useless  to  reply  seriously  to  the  extrao 
dinary  reprimand  that  I  had  received.  Besides,  I  was  reall} 
shocked  by  a  decay  of  principle  which  proceeded  but  too 
plainly  from  decay  of  the  mental  powers.  I  made  a  soothing 
and  respectful  reply,  and  I  was  favored  in  return  with  some 
account  of  what  had  really  happened  at  the  Refuge.  My 
mother  and  my  sisters  were  disgusted  when  I  repeated  the 
particulars  to  them.  You  will  be  disgusted  too. 

"  The  interesting  penitent  (expecting  Lady  Janet's  visit) 
was,  of  course,  discovered  in  a  touching  domestic  position  ! 
She  had  a  foundling  baby  asleep  on  her  lap;  and  she  was 
teaching  the  alphabet  to  an  ugly  little  vagabond  girl  whose 
acquaintance  she  had  first  made  in  the  street.  Just  the  sort 
of  artful  tableau  vivant  to  impose  on  an  old  lady  —  was  it 
not? 

"You  will  understand  what  followed,  when  Lady  Janet 
opened  her  matrimonial  negotiation.  Having  perfected  her- 
self in  her  part,  Mercy  Merrick,  to  do  her  justice,  was  not  the 
woman  to  play  it  badly.  The  most  magnanimous  sentiments 
flowed  from  her  lips.  She  declared  that  her  future  life  was 
devoted  to  acts  of  charity,  typified,  of  course,  by  the  found- 
ling infant  and  the  ugly  little  girl.  However  she  might  per- 
sonally suffer,  whatever  might  be  the  sacrifice  of  her  own  feel- 
ings— observe  how  artfully  this  was  put,  to  insinuate  that  she 
was  herself  in  love  with  him  ! — she  could  not  accept  from  Mr. 
Julian  Gray  an  honor  of  which  she  was  unworthy.  Her  grat- 
itude to  him  and  her  interest  in  him  alike  forbade  her  to  com- 
promise his  brilliant  future  by  consenting  to  a  marriage  which 
wauld  degrade  him  in  the  estimation  of  all  his  friends.  She 


THE    NEW   MAGDALEN.  309 

thanked  him  (with  tears) ;  she  thanked  Lady  Janet  (with 
more  tears )  ;  but  she  dare  not,  in  the  interests  of  his  honor 
and  his  happiness,  accept  the  hand  that  he  offered  to  her. 
God  bless  and  comfort  him;  and  God  help  her  to  bear  with 
her  hard  lot ! 

"  The  object  of  this  contemptible  comedy  is  plain  enough 
to  my  mind.  She  is  simply  holding  off  (Julian,  as  you  know, 
is  a  poor  man)  until  the  influence  of  Lady  Janet's  persuasion 
is  backed  by  the  opening  of  Lady  Janet's  purse.  In  one  word 
— Settlements !  But  for  the  profanity  of  the  woman's  lan- 
guage, and  the  really  lamentable  credulity  of  the  poor  old 
lady,  the  whole  thing  would  make  a  fit  subject  for  a  bur- 
lesque. 

"  But  the  saddest  part  of  the  story  is  still  to  come. 

"  In  due  course  of  time  the  lady's  decision  was  communi- 
cated to  Julian  Gray.  He  took  leave  of  his  senses  on  the 
spot.  Can  you  believe  it  ? — he  has  resigned  his  curacy  !  At 
a  time  when  the  church  is  thronged  every  Sunday  to  hear 
him  preach,  this  madman  shuts  the  door  and  walks  out  of 
the  pulpit.  Even  Lady  Janet  was  not  far  enough  gone  in 
folly  to  abet  him  in  this.  She  remonstrated,  like  the  rest  of 
las  friends.  Perfectly  useless  !  He  had  but  one  answer  to 
every  thing  they  could  say :  '  My  career  is  closed.'  What 
stuff ! 

"  You  will  ask,  naturally  enough,  what  this  perverse  man  is 
going  to  do  next.  I  don't  scruple  to  say  that  he  is  bent  on 
committing  suicide.  Pray  do  not  be  alarmed !  There  is  no 
fear  of  the  pistol,  the  rope,  or  the  river.  Julian  is  simply 
courting  death — within  the  limits  of  the  law. 

"  This  is  strong  language,  I  know.  You  shall  hear  what 
the  facts  are,  and  judge  for  yourself. 

"  Having  resigned  his  curacy,  his  next  proceeding  was  to 
offer  his  services,  as  volunteer,  to  a  new  missionary  enter- 
prise on  the  West  Coast  of  Africa.  The  persons  at  the  head 
of  the  mission  proved,  most  fortunately,  to  have  a  proper 


310  •  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

sense  of  their  duty.  Expressing  their  conviction  of  the  value 
of  Julian's  assistance  in  the  most  handsome  terms,  they  made 
it  nevertheless  a  condition  of  entertaining  his  proposal  that 
he  should  submit  to  examination  by  a  competent  medical 
man.  After  some  hesitation  he  consented  to  this.  Tie  doc- 
tor's report  was  conclusive.  In  Julian's  present  state  of 
health  the  climate  of  West  Africa  would  in  all  probability 
kill  him  in  three  months'  time. 

"Foiled  in  his  first  attempt,  he  addressed  himself  next 
to  a  London  Mission.  Here  it  was  impossible  to  raise  the 
question  of  climate ;  and  here,  I  grieve  to  say,  he  has  suc- 
ceeded. 

"  He  is  now  working — in  other  words,  he  is  now  deliber- 
ately risking  his  life — in  the  Mission  to  Green  Anchor  Fields. 
The  district  known  by  this  name  is  situated  in  a  remote  part 
of  London,  near  the  Thames.  It  is  notoriously  infested  by 
the  most  desperate  and  degraded  set  of  wretches  in  the  whole 
metropolitan  population,  and  it  is  so  thickly  inhabited  that  it 
is  hardly  ever  completely  free  from  epidemic  disease.  In 
this  horrible  place,  and  among  these  dangerous  people,  Julian 
is  now  employing  himself  from  morning  to  night.  None  of 
his  old  friends  ever  see  him.  Since  he  joined  the  Mission  he 
has  not  even  called  on  Lady  Janet  Roy. 

"  My  pledge  is  redeemed — the  facts  are  before  you.  Am  I 
wrong  in  taking  my  gloomy  view  of  the  prospect?  I  can 
not  forget  that  this  unhappy  man  was  once  my  friend ;  and  I 
really  see  no  hope  for  him  in  the  future.  Deliberately  self- 
exposed  to  the  violence  of  ruffians  and  the  outbreak  of  dis- 
ease, who  is  to  extricate  him  from  his  shocking  position  ? 
The  one  person  who  can  do  it  is  the  person  whose  associa- 
tion with  him  would  be  his  ruin — Mercy  Merrick.  Heaven 
only  knows  what  disasters  it  may  be  my  painful  duty  to  com- 
municate to  you  in  my  next  letter ! 

"  You  are  so  kind  as  to  ask  me  to  tell  you  something  about 
myself  and  my  plans. 


THE    NEW     \1.\<,  HA  LEX.  311 

" I  have  very  little  to  say  on  either  head.  After  what  I 
have  suffered — my  feelings  trampled  on,  my  confidence  be- 
trayed— I  am  as  yet  hardly  capable  of  deciding  what  I  shall 
do.  Returning  to  my  old  profession — to  the  army — is  out  of 
the  question,  in  these  leveling  days,  when  any  obscure  person 
who  can  pass  an  examination  may  call  himself  my  brother  of- 
ficer, and  may  one  day,  perhaps,  command  me  as  my  superior 
in  rank.  If  I  think  of  any  career,  it  is  the  career  of  diploma- 
cy. Birth  and  breeding  have  not  quite  disappeared  as  essen- 
tial qualifications  in  that  branch  of  the  public  service.  But  I 
have  decided  nothing  as  yet. 

"My  mother  and  sisters,  in  the  event  of  your  returning  to 
England,  desire  me  to  say  that  it  will  afford  them  the  great- 
est pleasure  to  make  your  acquaintance.  Sympathizing  witli 
me,  they  do  not  forget  what  you  too  have  suffered.  A  warm 
welcome  awaits  you  when  you  pay  your  first  visit  at  out- 
house. Most  truly  yours,  HORACE  HOLMCROFT." 

II. 
Prom  Miss  GRACE  UOSEHEKRY  to  MR.  HORACE  HOLMCROFT. 

"DEAR  MR.  HOLMCROFT, — I  snatch  a  few  moments  from 
my  other  avocations  to  thank  you  for  your  most  interesting 
and  delightful  letter.  How  well  you  describe,  how  accurate- 
ly you  judge !  If  Literature  stood  a  little  higher  as  a  pro- 
fession, I  should  almost  advise  you — but  no !  if  you  entered 
Literature,  how  could  you  associate  with  the  people  whom 
you  would  be  likely  to  meet? 

"Between  ourselves,  I  always  thought  Mr.  Julian  Gray  an 
overrated  man.  I  will  not  say  he  has  justified  my  opinion. 
I  will  only  say  I  pity*  him.  But,  dear  Mr.  Holmcroft,  how 
can  you,  with  your  sound  judgment,  place  the  sad  alternatives 
now  before  him  on  the  same  level?  To  die  in  Green  Anchor 
Fields,  or  to  fall  into  the  clutches  of  that  vile  wretch — is  there 
any  comparison  between  the  two?  Better  a  thousand 
die  at  the  post  of  duty  than  marry  Mercy  Merrick. 

14*" 


312  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

"  As  I  have  written  the  creature's  name,  I  may  add — so  as 
to  have  all  the  sooner  done  with  the  subject  —  that  I  shall 
look  with  anxiety  for  your  next  letter.  Do  not  suppose  that  I 
feel  the  smallest  curiosity  about  this  degraded  and  designing 
woman.  My  interest  in  her  is  purely  religious.  To  persons 
of  my  devout  turn  of  mind  she  is  an  awful  warning.  When 
I  feel  Satan  near  me — it  will  be  such  a  means  of  grace  to 
think  of  Mercy  Merrick ! 

"  Poor  Lady  Janet !  I  noticed  those  signs  of  mental  decay 
to  which  you  so  feelingly  allude  at  the  last  interview  I  had 
with  her  in  Mablethorpe  House.  If  you  can  find  an  opportu- 
nity, will  you  say  that  I  wish  her  well,  here  and  hereafter? 
and  will  you  please  add  that  I  do  not  omit  to  remember  her 
in  my  prayers  ? 

"There  is  just  a  chance  of  my  visiting  England  toward  the 
close  of  the  autumn.  My  fortunes  have  changed  since  I  wrote 
last.  I  have  been  received  as  reader  and  companion  by  a  lady 
who  is  the  wife  of  one  of  our  high  judicial  functionaries  in 
this  part  of  the  world.  I  do  not  take  much  interest  in  him; 
he  is  what  they  call  a  *  self-made  man.'  His  wife  is  charming. 
Besides  being  a  person  of  highly  intellectual  tastes,  she  is 
greatly  her  husband's  superior — as  you  will  understand  when 
I  tell  you  that  she  is  related  to  the  Gommerys  of  Pommery ; 
not  the  Pommerys  of  Gommery,  who  (as  your  knowledge  of 
our  old  families  will  inform  you)  only  claim  kindred  with  the 
younger  branch  of  that  ancient  race. 

"  In  the  elegant  and  improving  companionship  which  I  now 
enjoy  I  should  feel  quite  happy  but  for  one  drawback.  The 
climate  of  Canada  is  not  favorable  to  my  kind  patroness,  and 
her  medical  advisers  recommend  hef  to  winter  in  London. 
In  this  event,  I  am  to  have  the  privilege  of  accompanying 
her.  Is  it  necessary  to  add  that  my  first  visit  will  be  paid  at 
your  house  ?  I  feel  already  united  by  sympathy  to  your  moth- 
er and  your  sisters.  There  is  a  sort  of  freemasonry  among 
gentlewomen,  is  there  not  ?  With  best  thanks  and  remeiu- 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  313 

brances,  and  many  delightful  anticipations  of  your  next  let- 
ter, believe  me,  dear  Mr.  Holmcroft, 

"  Truly  yours,  GRACE  ROSEBERRY." 

in. 

From  MR.  HORACE  HOLMCROFT  to  Miss  GRACE  ROSE- 
BERRY. 

"  MY  DEAR  Miss  ROSEBERRY, — Pray  excuse  my  long  si- 
lence. I  have  waited  for  mail  after  mail,  in  the  hope  of  being 
able  to  send  you  some  good  news  at  last.  It  is  useless  to 
wait  longer.  My  worst  forebodings  have  been  realized :  my 
painful  duty  compels  me  to  write  a  letter  which  will  surprise 
and  shock  you. 

"  Let  me  describe  events  in  their  order  as  they  happened. 
In  this  way  I  may  hope  to  gradually  prepare  your  mind  for 
what  is  to  come. 

"About  three  weeks  after  I  wrote  to  you  last,  Julian  Gray 
paid  the  penalty  of  his  headlong  rashness.  I  do  not  mean 
that  he  suffered  any  actual  violence  at  the  hands  of  the  people 
among  whom  he  had  cast  his  lot.  On  the  contrary,  he  suc- 
ceeded, incredible-  as  it  may  appear,  in  producing  a  favora- 
ble impression  on  the  ruffians  about  him.  As  I  understand 
it,  they  began  by  respecting  his  courage  in  venturing  among 
them  alone ;  and  they  ended  in  discovering  that  he  was  really 
interested  in  promoting  their  welfare.  It  is  to  the  other  peril, 
indicated  in  my  last  letter,  that  he  has  fallen  a  victim — the 
peril  of  disease.  Not  long  after  he  began  his  labors  in  the 
district  fever  broke  out.  We  only  heard  that  Julian  had 
been  struck  down  by  the  epidemic  when  it  was  too  late  to  re- 
move him  from  the  lodging  that  he  occupied  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  made  inquiries  personally  the  moment  the  news 
reached  us.  The  doctor  in  attendance  refused  to  answer  for 
his  life. 

"  In  this  alarming  state  of  things  poor  Lady  Janet,  impul 


314  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

sive  and  unreasonable   as  usual,  insisted  on  leaving  Mable- 
thorpe  House  and  taking  up  her  residence  near  her  nephew. 

"Finding  it  impossible  to  persuade  her  of  the  folly  of  re- 
moving from  home  and  its  comforts  at  her  age,  I  felt  it  my 
duty  to  accompany  her.  We  found  accommodation  (such  as 
it  was)  in  a  river-side  inn,  used  by  ship-captains  and  commer- 
cial travelers.  I  took  it  on  myself  to  provide  the  best  medical 
assistance, Lady  Janet's  insane  prejudices  against  doctors  im- 
pelling her  to  leave  this  important  part  of  the  arrangements 
entirely  in  rny  hands. 

"  It  is  needless  to  weary  you  by  entering  into  details  on  the 
subject  of  Julian's  illness. 

"  The  fever  pursued  the  ordinary  course,  and  was  charac- 
terized by  the  usual  intervals  of  delirium  and  exhaustion 
succeeding  each  other.  Subsequent  events,  which  it  is,  unfor- 
tunately, necessary  to  relate  to  you,  leave  me  no  choice  but 
to  dwell  (as  briefly  as  possible)  on  the  painful  subject  of  the 
delirium.  In  other  cases  the  wanderings  of  fever-stricken 
people  present,  I  am  told,  a  certain  variety  of  range.  In  Ju 
lian's  case  they  were  limited  to  one  topic.  He  talked  inces 
santly  of  Mercy  Merrick.  His  invariable  petition  to  his  med- 
ical attendants  entreated  them  to  send  for  her  to  nurse  him. 
Day  and  night  that  one  idea  was  in  his  mind,  and  that  one 
name  on  his  lips. 

"The  doctors  naturally  made  inquiries  as  to  this  absent 
person.  I  was  obliged  (in  confidence)  to  state  the  circum- 
stances to  them  plainly. 

"  The  eminent  physician  whom  I  had  called  in  to  superin- 
tend the  treatment  behaved  admirably.  Though  he  has  risen 
from  the  lower  order  of  the  people,  he  has,  strange  to  say, 
the  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  He  thoroughly  understood  our 
trying  position,  and  felt  all  the  importance  of  preventing  such 
a  person  as  Mercy  Merrick  from  seizing  the  opportunity  of 
intruding  herself  at  the  bedside.  A  soothing  prescription  (I 
have  his  own  authority  for  saying  it)  was  all  that  was  re- 


•II  IK    NKW    MAGDALEN.  HI.". 

.[Hired  to  meet  the  patient's  case.  The  local  doctor,  on  the 
other  hand,  a  young  man  (and  evidently  a  red-hot  radical), 
proved  to  be  obstinate,  and,  considering  his  position,  insolent 
as  well.  '  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  lady's  character,  and 
with  your  opinion  of  it/  he  said  to  me.  'I  have  only,  to  the 
best  of  my  judgment,  to  point  out  to  you  the  likeliest  means 
of  saving  the  patient's  life.  Our  art  is  at  the  end  of  its  re- 
sources. Send  for  Mercy  Merrick,  no  matter  who  she  is  or 
what  she  is.  There  is  just  a  chance — especially  if  she  proves 
to  De  a  sensible  person  and  a  good  nurse — that  he  may  aston- 
ish you  all  by  recognizing  her.  In  that  case  only,  his  recovery 
is  probable.  If  you  persist  in  disregarding  his  entreaties,  if 
you  let  the  delirium  go  on  for  four-and-twenty  hours  more,  he 
is  a  dead  man.' 

"Lady  Janet  was,  most  unluckily,  present  when  this  im- 
pudent opinion  was  delivered  at  the  bedside. 

"  Need  I  tell  you  the  sequel  ?  Called  upon  to  choose  be- 
tween the  course  indicated  by  a  physician  who  is  making  his 
five  thousand  a  year,  and  who  is  certain  of  the  next  med- 
ical baronetcy,  and  the  advice  volunteered  by  an  obscure 
general  practitioner  at  the  East  End  of  London,  who  is  not 
making  his  five  hundred  a  year — need  I  stop  to  inform  you 
of  her  ladyship's  decision?  You  know  her;  and  you  will 
only  too  well  understand  that  her  next  proceeding  was  to 
pay  a  third  visit  to  the  Refuge. 

"  Two  hours  later — I  give  you  my  word  of  honor  I  am  not 
exaggerating — Mercy  Merrick  was  established  at  Julian's  bed- 
side. 

"  The  excuse,  of  course,  was  that  it  was  her  duty  not  to 
let  any  private  scruples  of  her  own  stand  in  the  way,  when  a 
medical  authority  had  declared  that  she  might  save  the  pa- 
tient's life.  You  will  not  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  with- 
drew from  the  scene.  The  physician  followed  my  example — 
after  having  written  his  soothing  prescription,  and  having 
been  grossly  insulted  by  the  local  practitioner's  refusing  tv 


316  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

make  use  of  it.  I  went  back  in  the  doctor's  carriage.  He 
spoke  most  feelingly  and  properly.  Without  giving  any  pos- 
itive opinion,  I  could  see  that  he  had  abandoned  all  hope  of 
Julian's  recovery.  '  We  are  in  the  hands  of  Providence,  Mr. 
Holmcroft ;'  those  were  his  last  words  as  he  set  tne  down  at 
my  mother's  door. 

"  I  have  hardly  the  heart  to  go  on.  If  I  studied  my  own 
wishes,  I  should  feel  inclined  to  stop  here. 

"  Let  me,  at  least,  hasten  to  the  end.  In  two  or  three  days' 
time  I  received  my  first  intelligence  of  the  patient  and  his 
nurse.  Lady  Janet  informed  me  that  he.  had  recognized  her. 
When  I  heard  this  I  felt  prepared  for  what  was  to  come. 
The  next  report  announced  that  he  was  gaining  strength,  and 
the  next  that  he  was  out  of  danger.  Upon  this  Lady  Janet 
returned  to  Mablethorpe  House.  I  called  there  a  week  ago — 
and  heard  that  he  had  been  removed  to  the  sea-side.  I  called 
yesterday — and  received  the  latest  information  from  her  lady- 
ship's own  lips.  My  pen  almost  refuses  to  write  it.  Mercy 
Merrick  has  consented  to  marry  him  ! 

"An  outrage  on  Society — that  is  how  my  mother  and  my 
sisters  view  it ;  that  is  how  you  will  view  it  too.  My  mother 
has  herself  struck  Julian's  name  off  her  invitation-list.  The 
servants  have  their  orders,  if  he  presumes  to  call :  '  Not  at 
home.' 

"  I  am  unhappily  only  too  certain  that  I  am  correct  in  writ- 
ing to  you  of  this  disgraceful  marriage  as  of  a  settled  thinjr. 
Lady  Janet  went  the  length  of  showing  me  the  letters — one 
from  Julian,  the  other  from  the  woman  herself.  Fancy  Mer- 
cy Merrick  in  correspondence  with  Lady  Janet  Roy !  ad 
dressing  her  as  '  My  dear  Lady  Janet,'  and  signing,  '  Yours 
affectionately !' 

"  I  had  not  the  patience  to  read  either  of  the  letters  through. 
Julian's  tone  is  the  tone  of  a  Socialist ;  in  my  opinion  his 
bishop  ought  to  be  informed  of  it.  As  for  her,  she  plays  her 
part  just  as  cleverly  with  her  pen  as  she  played  it  with  her 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  317 

tongue.     '  I  can  not  disguise  from  myself  that  I  am  wrong  in 

yielding Sad  forebodings  fill  my  mind  when  I  think  of  the 

future. . .  .1  feel  as  if  the  first  contemptuous  look  that  is  cast 
at  my  husband  will  destroy  my  happiness,  though  it  may  not 
disturb  him. . . .  As  long  as  I  was  parted  from  him  I  could 
control  my  own  weakness,  I  could  accept  my  hard  lot.  But 
how  can  I  resist  him  after  having  watched  for  weeks  at  his 
bedside ;  after  having  seen  his  first  smile,  and  heard  his  first 
grateful  words  to  me  while  I  was  slowly  helping  him  back  to 
life  ?' 

"There  is  the  tone  which  she  takes  through  four  closely 
written  pages  of  nauseous  humility  and  clap-trap  sentiment ! 
It  is  enough  to  make  one  despise  women.  Thank  God,  there 
is  the  contrast  at  hand  to  I'emind  me  of  what  is  due  to  the 
better  few  among  the  sex.  I  feel  that  my  mother  and  my 
sisters  are  doubly  precious  to  me  now.  May  I  add,  on  the 
side  of  consolation,  that  I  prize  with  hardly  inferior  gratitude 
the  privilege  of  corresponding  with  you} 

"  Farewell  for  the  present.  I  am  too  rudely  shaken  in  my 
most  cherished  convictions,  I  am  too  depressed  and  disheart- 
ened, to  write  more.  All  good  wishes  go  with  you,  dear  Miss 
Roseberry,  until  we  meet. 

"Most  truly  yours,  HORACE  HOLMCROFT." 

IV. 

Extracts  from  the  DIARY  of  THE  REVEREND  JULIAN 
GRAY. 

FIRST  EXTRACT. 

"A  month  to-day  since  we  were  married!     I  have 

only  one  thing  to  say  :  I  would  cheerfully  go  through  all  that 
I  have  suffered  to  live  this  one  month  over  again.  I  never 
knew  what  happiness  was  until  now.  And  better  still,  I  have 
persuaded  Mercy  that  it  is  all  her  doing.  I  have  scattered 
her  misgivings  to  the  winds ;  she  is  obliged  to  submit  to  evi 


318  THE    NEW    MAGDALEN. 

deuce,  and  to  own  that  she  can  make  the  happiness  of  my 
life. 

"  We  go  back  to  London  to-morrow.  She  regrets  leaving 
the  tranquil  retirement  of  this  remote  sea-side  place  —  she 
dreads  change.  I  care  nothing  for  it.  It  is  all  one  to  me 
where  I  go,  so  long  as  my  wife  is  with  mo." 

SECOND    EXTRACT. 

"The  first  cloud  has  risen.  I  entered  the  room  unexpect- 
edly just  now,  and  found  her  in  tears. 

"With  considerable  difficulty  I  persuaded  her  to  tell  me 
what  had  happened.  Are  there  any  limits  to  the  mischief 
that  can  be  done  by  the  tongue  of  a  foolish  woman  ?  The 
landlady  at  my  lodgings  is  the  woman,  in  this  case.  Having 
no  decided  plans  for  the  future  as  yet,  we  returned  (most  un- 
fortunately, as  the  event  has  proved)  to  the  rooms  in  London 
which  I  inhabited  in  my  bachelor  days.  They  are  still  mine 
for  six  weeks  to  come,  and  Mercy  was  unwilling  to  let  me 
incur  the  expense  of  taking  her  to  a  hotel.  At  breakfast  this 
morning  1  rashly  congratulated  myself  (in  my  wife's  hearing) 
on  finding  that  a  much  smaller  collection  than  usual  of  letters 
and  cards  had  accumulated  in  my  absence.  Breakfast  over, 
I  was  obliged  to  go  out.  Painfully  sensitive,  poor  thing,  to 
any  change  in  my  experience  of  the  little  world  around  me 
which  it  is  possible  to  connect  with  the  event  of  my  marriage, 
Mercy  questioned  the  landlady,  in  my  absence,  about  the 
diminished  number  of  my  visitors  and  my  correspondents. 
The  woman  seized  the  opportunity  of  gossiping  about  me  and 
my  affairs,  and  my  wife's  quick  perception  drew  the  right 
conclusion  unerringly.  My  marriage  has  decided  certain 
wise  heads  of  families  on  discontinuing  their  social  relations 
with  me.  The  facts,  unfortunately,  speak  for  themselves. 
People  who  in  former  years  habitually  called  upon  me  and 
invited  me — or  who,  in  the  event  of  my  absence,  habitually 
wrote  to  me  at  this  season— have  abstained  with  a  remarka- 
ble unanimity  from  calling,  inviting,  or  writing  now. 


THE    NK\\      MAi.D.VLEX.  319 

"  It  would  have  been  sheer  waste  of  time — to  say  nothing 
of  its  also  implying  a  want  of  confidence  in  my  wife — if  I  had 
attempted  to  set  things  right  by  disputing  Mercy's  conclu- 
sion. I  could  only  satisfy  her  that  not  so  much  as  the  shad- 
ow of  disappointment  or  mortification  rested  on  my  mind. 
In  this  way  I  have,  to  some  extent,  succeeded  in  composing 
my  poor  darling.  But  the  wound  has  been  inflicted,  and  the 
wound  is  felt.  There  is  no  disguising  that  result.  I  must 
face  it  boldly. 

"  Trifling  as  this  incident  is  in  my  estimation,  it  has  de- 
cided me  on  one  point  already.  In  shaping  my  future  course 
I  am  now  resolved  to  act  on  my  own  convictions — in  prefer- 
ence to  taking  the  well-meant  advice  of  such  friends  as  are 
still  left  to  me. 

"All  my  little  success  in  life  has  been  gained  in  the  pulpit. 
I  am  what  is  termed  a  popular  preacher — but  I  have  never, 
in  my  secret  self,  felt  any  exultation  in  my  own  notoriety,  or 
any  extraordinary  respect  for  the  means  by  which  it  has  been 
won.  In  the  first  place,  I  have  a  very  low  idea  of  the  im- 
portance of  oratory  as  an  intellectual  accomplishment.  There 
is  no  other  art  in  which  the  conditions  of  success  are  so  easy 
of  attainment ;  there  is  no  other  art  in  the  practice  of  which 
so  much  that  is  purely  superficial  passes  itself  off  habitually 
for  something  that  claims  to  be  profound.  Then,  again,  how 
poor  it  is  in  the  results  which  it  achieves  !  Take  my  own 
case.  How  often  (for  example)  have  I  thundered  with  all 
.my  heart  and  soul  against  the  wicked  extravagance  of  dress 
among  women — against  their  filthy  false  hair,  and  their  nau- 
seous powders  and  paints !  How  often  (to  take  another  ex- 
ample) have  I  denounced  the  mercenary  and  material  spirit  of 
the  age — the  habitual  corruptions  and  dishonesties  of  com- 
merce, in  high  places  and  in  low  !  What  good  have  I  done  ? 
I  have  delighted  the  very  people  whom  it  was  my  object  to 
rebuke.  'What  a  charming  sermon  !'  'More  eloquent  than 
ever!'  'I  used  to  dread  the  sermon  at  the  other  church — do 


320  THE    NEW   MAGDALEN. 

you  know,  I  quite  look  forward  to  it  now.'  That  is  the  ef- 
fect I  produce  on  Sunday.  On  Monday  the  women  are  off 
to  the  milliners  to  spend  more  money  than  ever ;  the  City 
men  are  off  to  business  to  make  more  money  than  ever — 
while  my  grocer,  loud  in  my  praises  in  his  Sunday  coat,  turns 
up  his  week-day  sleeves  and  adulterates  his  favorite  preach- 
er's sugar  as  cheerfully  as  usual ! 

"  I  have  often,  in  past  years,  felt  the  objections  to  pursu- 
ing my  career  which  are  here  indicated.  They  were  bitterly 
present  to  my  mind  when  I  resigned  my  curacy,  and  they 
strongly  influence  me  now. 

"  I  am  weary  of  my  cheaply  won  success  in  the  pulpit.  I 
am  weary  of  society  as  I  find  it  in  my  time.  I  felt  some  re- 
spect for  myself,  and  some  heart  and  hope  in  my  work,  among 
the  miserable  wretches  in  Green  Anchor  Fields.  But  I  can 
not,  and  must  not,  return  among  them  :  I  have  no  right,  now, 
to  trifle  with  my  health  and  my  life.  I  must  go  back  to  my 
preaching,  or  I  must  leave  England.  Among  a  primitive 
people,  away  from  the  cities — in  the  far  and  fertile  West  of 
the  great  American  continent — I  might  live  happily  with  my 
wife,  and  do  good  among  ray  neighbors,  secure  of  providing 
for  our  wants  out  of  the  modest  little  income  which  is  al- 
most useless  to  me  here.  In  the  life  which  I  thus  picture  to 
myself  I  see  love,  peace,  health,  and  duties  and  occupations 
that  are  worthy  of  a  Christian  man.  What  prospect  is  be- 
fore me  if  I  take  the  advice  of  my  friends  and  stay  here  ? 
Work  of  which  I  am  weary,  because  I  have  long  since  ceased 
to  respect  it ;  petty  malice  that  strikes  at  me  through  my 
wife,  and  mortifies  and  humiliates  her,  turn  where  she  may. 
If  I  had  only  myself  to  think  of,  I  might  defy  the  worst  that 
malice  can  do.  But  I  have  Mercy  to  think  of— Mercy,  whom 
I  love  better  than  my  own  life  !  Women  live,  poor  things, 
in  the  opinions  of  others.  I  have  had  one  warning  already 
of  what  my  wife  is  likely  to  suffer  at  the  hands  of  my 
'  friends ' — Heaven  forgive  me  for  misusing  the  word !  Shall 


THE   NEW   MAGDALEX.  321 

T  deliberately  expose  her  to  fresh  mortifications  ? — and  this 
for  the  sake  of  returning  to  a  career  the  rewards  of  which 
I  no  longer  prize  ?  No  !  We  will  both  be  happy — we  will 
both  be  free !  God  is  merciful,  Nature  is  kind,  Love  is  true, 
in  the  New  World  as  well  as  the  Old.  To  the  New  World 
we  will  go !" 

THIRD    EXTRACT. 

"I  hardly  know  whether  I  have  done  right  or  wrong.  I 
mentioned  yesterday  to  Lady  Janet  the  cold  reception  of  me 
on  my  return  to  London,  and  the  painful  sense  of  it  felt  by 
my  wife. 

"  My  aunt  looks  at  the  matter  from  her  own  peculiar  point 
of  view,  and  makes  light  of  it  accordingly.  '  You  never  did, 
and  never  will,  understand  Society,  Julian,'  said  her  ladyship. 
'  These  poor  stupid  people  simply  don't  know  what  to  do. 
They  are  waiting  to  be  told  by  a  person  of  distinction  wheth- 
er they  are,  or  are  not,  to  recognize  your  marriage.  In  plain 
English,  they  are  waiting  to  be  led  by  Me.  Consider  it  done. 
I  will  lead  them.' 

"  I  thought  my  aunt  was  joking.  The  event  of  to-day  has 
shown  me  that  she  is  terribly  in  earnest.  Lady  Janet  has 
issued  invitations  for  one  of  her  grand  balls  at  Mablethorpe 
House ;  and  she  has  caused  the  report  to  be  circulated  every- 
where that  the  object  of  the  festival  is  '  to  celebrate  the  mar- 
riage of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Julian  Gray  !' 

"  I  at  first  refused  to  be  present.  To  my  amazement,  how- 
ever, Mercy  sides  with  my  aunt.  She  reminds  me  of  all  that 
we  both  owe  to  Lady  Janet ;  and  she  has  persuaded  me  to  ni- 
ter my  mind.  We  are  to  go  to  the  ball  —  at  my  wife's  ex- 
press request ! 

"  The  meaning  of  this,  as  I  interpret  it,  is  that  my  poor 
love  is  still  pursued  in  secret  by  the  dread  that  my  marriage 
has  injured  me  in  the  general  estimation.  She  will  suffer 
any  thing,  risk  any  thing,  believe  any  thing,  to  be  freed  from 
that  one  haunting  doubt.  Lady  Janet  predicts  a  social  tri 


322  THE    NEW    MAGDALKX. 

umph;  and  my  wife's  despair — not  my  wife's  conviction — 
accepts  the  prophecy.  As  for  me,  I  am  prepared  for  the  re- 
sult. It  will  end  in  our  going  to  the  New  World,  and  trying 
Society  in  its  infancy,  among  the  forests  and  the  plains.  I 
shall  quietly  prepare  for  our  departure,  and  own  what  I  have 
done  at  the  right  time — that  is  to  say,  when  the  ball  is  ovei\" 

FOURTH    EXTRACT. 

"I  have  met  with  the  man  for  my  purpose — an  old  college 
friend  of  mine,  now  partner  in  a  firm  of  ship-owners,  largely 
concerned  in  emigration. 

"  One  of  their  vessels  sails  for  America,  from  the  port  of 
London,  in  a  fortnight,  touching  at  Plymouth.  By  a  fortu- 
nate coincidence,  Lady  Janet's  ball  takes  place  in  a  fortnight. 
I  see  my  way. 

"  Helped  by  the  kindness  of  my  friend,  I  have  arranged  to 
have  a  cabin  kept  in  reserve,  on  payment  of  a  small  deposit. 
If  the  ball  ends  (as  I  believe  it  will)  in  new  mortifications  for 
Mercy — -do  what  they  may,  I  defy  them  to  mortify  me  —  I 
have  only  to  say  the  word  by  telegraph,  and  we  shall  catch 
the  ship  at  Plymouth. 

"  I  know  the  effect  it  will  have  when  I  break  the  news  to 
her,  but  I  am  prepared  with  my  remedy.  The  pages  of  my 
diary,  written  in  past  years,  will  show  plainly  enough  that  it 
is  not  she  who  is  driving  me  away  from  England.  She  will 
see  the  longing  in  me  for  other  work  and  other  scenes  ex- 
pressing itself  over  and  over  again  long  before  the  time  when 
we  first  met." 

FIFTH    EXTRACT. 

"  Mercy's  ball  dress — a  present  from  kind  Lady  Janet — is 
finished.  I  was  allowed  to  see  the  first  trial,  or  preliminary 
rehearsal,  of  this  work  of  art.  I  don't  in  the  least  understand 
the  merits  of  silk  a^d  lace ;  but  one  thing  I  know — my  wife 
will  be  the  most  beautiful  woman  at  the  ball. 

"  The  same  day  I  called  on  Lady  Janet  to  thank  her,  and 


THE    >*EW    MAGDALEN.  823 

encountered  a  new  revelation  of  the  wayward  and  original 
character  of  my  dear  old  aunt. 

"  She  was  on  the  point  of  tearing  up  a  letter  when  I  went 
into  her  room.  Seeing  me,  she  suspended  her  purpose  and 
handed  me  the  letter.  It  was  in  Mercy's  handwriting. 
Lady  Janet  pointed  to  a  passage  on  the  last  page.  'Tell 
your  wife,  with  my  love,'  she  said, '  that  I  am  the  most  obsti- 
nate woman  of  the  two.  I  positively  refuse  to  read  her,  as  I 
positively  refuse  to  listen  to  her,  whenever  she  attempts  to 
return  to  that  one  subject.  Now  give  me  the  letter  back.' 
I  gave  it  back,  and  saw  it  torn  up  before  my  face.  The  '  one 
subject'  prohibited  to  Mercy  as  sternly  as  ever  is  still  the 
subject  of  the  personation  of  Grace  Roseberry !  Nothing 
«  >uld  have  been  more  naturally  introduced,  or  more  delicate- 
ly managed,  than  my  wife's  brief  reference  to  the  subject. 
No  matter.  The  reading  of  the  first  line  was  enough.  Lady 
Janet  shut  her  eyes  and  destroyed  the  letter — Lady  Janet  is 
determined  to  live  and  die  absolutely  ignorant  of  the  true 
story  of  '  Mercy  Merrick.'  What  unanswerable  riddles  we 
are !  Is  it  wonderful  if  we  perpetually  fail  to  understand 
one  another  ?" 

•  SIXTH    EXTRACT. 

"  The  morning  after  the  ball. 

"  It  is  done  and  over.  Society  has  beaten  Lady  Janet.  I 
have  neither  patience  nor  time  to  write  at  length  of  it.  We 
leave  for  Plymouth  by  the  afternoon  express. 

"We  were  rather  late  in  arriving  at  the  ball.  The  mag- 
nificent rooms  were  filling  fast.  Walking  through  them  with 
my  wife,  she  drew  my  attention  to  a  circumstance  which  I 
I'.ad  not  noticed  at  the  time.  'Julian,'  she  said, 'look  round 
among  the  ladies,  and  tell  me  if  you  see  any  thing  strange.' 
As  I  looked  round  the  bund  began  playing  a  waltz.  I  ob- 
served that  a  few  people  only  passed  by  us  to  the  dancing- 
room.  I  noticed  next  that  of  those  few  fewer  still  were 
young.  At  last  it  burst  upon  me.  With  certain  exceptions 


324  THE   NEW   MAGDALEN. 

(so  rare  as  to  prove  the  rule),  there  were  no  young  girls  at 
Lady  Janet's  ball.  I  took  Mercy  at  once  back  to  the  recep- 
tion-roorn.  Lady  Janet's  face  showed  that  she  too  was  aware 
of  what  had  happened.  The  guests  were  still  arriving.  We 
received  the  men  and  their  wives,  the  men  and  their  mothers, 
the  men  and  their  grandmothers — but,  in  place  of  their  un- 
married daughters,  elaborate  excuses,  offered  with  a  shameless 
politeness  wonderful  to  see.  Yes !  This  was  how  the  ma- 
trons in  high  life  had  got  over  the  difficulty  of  meeting  Mrs. 
Julian  Gray  at  Lady  Janet's  house. 

"  Let  me  do  strict  justice  to  every  one.  The  ladies  who  were 
present  showed  the  needful  respect  for  their  hostess.  They 
did  their  duty — no,  overdid  it,  is  perhaps  the  better  phrase. 

"  I  really  had  no  adequate  idea  of  the  coarseness  and  rude- 
ness which  have  filtered  their  way  through  society  in  these 
later  times  until  I  saw  the  reception  accorded  to  my  wife. 
The  days  of  prudery  and  prejudice  are  days  gone  by.  Ex- 
cessive amiability  and  excessive  liberality  are  the  two  favor- 
ite assumptions  of  the  modern  generation.  To  see  the  wom- 
en expressing  their  liberal  forgetfulness  of  my  wife's  misfor- 
tunes, and  the  men  their  amiable  anxiety  to  encourage  her 
husband  ;  to  hear  the  same  set  phrases  repeated  in  every 
room — '  So  charmed  to  make  your  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Gray  ; 
so  much  obliged  to  dear  Lady  Janet  for  giving  us  this  op- 
portunity ! — Julian,  old  man,  what  a  beautiful  creature!  I 
envy  you  ;  upon  my  honor,  I  envy  you  !' — to  receive  this  sort 
of  welcome,  emphasized  by  obtrusive  hand -shakings,  some- 
times actually  by  downright  kissings  of  my  wife,  and  then  to 
look  round  and  see  that  not  one  in  thirty  of  these  very  peo- 
ple had  brought  their  unmarried  daughters  to  the  ball,  was, 
I  honestly  believe,  to  see  civilized  human  nature  in  its  basest 
conceivable  aspect,  The  New  World  may  have  its  disap- 
pointments in  store  for  us,  but  it  can  not  possibly  show  us  any 
spectacle  so  abject  as  the  spectacle  which  we  witnessed  last 
night  at  my  aunt's  ball. 


THE    NEW    MAGDALEN.  825 

"  Lady  Janet  marked  her  sense  of  the  proceeding  adopted 
by  her  guests  by  leaving  them  to  themselves.  Her  guests  re- 
mained and  supped  heartily  notwithstanding.  They  all  knew 
by  experience  that  there  were  no  stale  dishes  and  no  cheap 
wines  at  Mablethorpe  House.  They  drank  to  the  end  of  the 
bottle,  and  they  ate  to  the  last  truffle  in  'the  dish. 

"  Mercy  and  I  had  an  interview  with  my  aunt  up  stairs  be- 
fore we  left.  I  felt  it  necessary  to  state  plainly  my  resolution 
to  leave  England.  The  scene  that  followed  was  so  painful 
that  I  can  not  prevail  on  myself  to  return  to  it  in  these  pages. 
My  wife  is  reconciled  to  our  departure ;  and  Lady  Janet  .ac- 
companies us  as  far  as  Plymouth — these  are  the  results.  No 
words  can  express  my  sense  of  relief,  now  that  it  is  all  settled. 
The  one  sorrow  I  shall  carry  away  with  me  from  the  shores 
of  England  will  be  the  sorrow  of  parting  with  dear  warm- 
hearted Lady  Janet.  At  her  age  it  is  a  parting  for  life. 

"  So  closes  my  connection  with  my  own  country.  While  I 
have  Mercy  by  my  side  I  face  the  unknown  future,  certain  of 
carrying  my  happiness  with  me,  go  where  I  may.  We  shall 
find  five  hundred  adventurers  like  ourselves  when  we  join  the 
emigrant  ship,  for  whom  their  native  land  has  no  occupation 
and  no  home.  Gentlemen  of  the  Statistical  Department,  add 
two  more  to  the  number  of  social  failures  produced  by  En- 
gland in  the  year  of  our  Lord  eighteen  hundred  and  seventy 
one — Julian  Gray  and  Mercy  Merrick." 


THE   END. 


I  "DIVERSITY 


Illllllllllllllll 

A     000034715     3 


